Metal Gear Solid: Reaching Heaven
by TheyAre
Summary: Chapter 13 is up! R&R! Will Snake escape from Griffin's clutches?
1. Prologue

Metal Gear Solid 2 Sequel, but back to the roots of Metal Gear.  
  
Outer Heaven.  
  
  
  
Metal Gear Solid: Outer Heaven  
  
  
  
Prologue  
  
  
  
Vladimir hated his job. He'd been here for almost three years now, working at this nowhere job, wondering if he would ever be called on to do his duty.  
  
As he looked around at the dingy office he occupied, Vladimir realized that he most likely wasn't ever going to be called on. His connections had told him the Colonel had died three years ago, just after he'd put Vladimir here, here being a dingy little wharf on the opposite end of Long Island from Manhattan. It was dirty here. And cold. And you couldn't walk twenty feet away from your job without either being mugged, or killing someone who was trying to mug you. That had happened a few times. The police here in America didn't particularly like it when they couldn't stop a few petty thieves, and then here was this Russian who seemed to kill two or three a day in self-defense. All of the incidents had witnesses, and Vladimir had never been charged with anything.  
  
He was definitely glad he'd joined up with the Colonel back when the USSR collapsed. The GRU just wasn't the same. It was all about "cooperation" and a "peaceful world." One thing Vladimir didn't want was a "peaceful" world.  
  
"I'm outta this dump," Max said. Vladimir disliked the big, stupid American, but he was good at the manual labor Vladimir's job required. Nothing like muscle for a muscle job, Vladimir thought.  
  
"Good night," Vladimir said, cursing his accent. He'd learned English almost twenty years ago, for God's sake! The Colonel would have given him a sharp reprimand if he'd heard him talking English like that.  
  
Vladimir finished the paperwork for the day and left. He scowled as he looked at the sign over his stevedore business: Steve's Stevedores. That had been the Colonel's idea; he'd thought it was amazingly funny when they decided to set up the front operation.  
  
Slipping into the alley behind Steve's Stevedores, Vladimir paused for a moment and looked around warily before taking a key out of his pocket and inserting it into a back door sunk into the wall.  
  
The lock squealed as rust flew off it; Vladimir cursed and looked around. Still nothing. He finished turning the key and slipped into the basement.  
  
All around him were half-formed shapes; big shapes. Vladimir flicked on a light, and closed his eyes against the glare of the naked light bulbs in the room. When he opened them again, he took in the lovely sight: row after row of AKS-74us, AN-94s, artillery shells, bazookas, grenade launchers… the list went on and on. Making his way quickly through the maze of military hardware, Vladimir came up to another locked door. Taking another key out his pocket, Vladimir inserted it into the lock and turned it. As he opened the door, he heard something scrape against the cold concrete floor. But where? Behind him?  
  
He turned. "Who's there?" he called out. Silence.  
  
Pulling a light USP handgun that all of the Colonel's officers carried out of his waistband, Vladimir checked the clip and turned to enter the room. The scraping noise came again.  
  
Vladimir turned, and this time began making his way back up the rows and rows of weaponry. "I know you're in here," he said. "Come on out and let's make this quick."  
  
"Very well."  
  
The voice was harsh and raspy, and had a bit of a Russian accent in it. Vladimir whirled around and saw that he was staring down the barrel of a handgun.  
  
A very old handgun.  
  
A Colt Single Action Army, in fact.  
  
"Shalashaska!" Vladimir yelled. "I'm glad you remember my name, comrade, but I'd prefer if you use the one the Americans gave me," Shalashaska said.  
  
"W-what are you doing here?" Vladimir said. "I've come for the little present you received a week ago," Revolver Ocelot said. "The nuke?" Vladimir said. "Haven't you tried that twice in the past, comrade?" His voice was suddenly harsh. "Oh for two, in the only game that matters. I find that amusing."  
  
"You know what I find amusing?" Ocelot said lightly, his eyes twinkling. "That you, a former member of the GRU, have been reduced to mere… hired muscle."  
  
Vladimir knew he was going to die. In that moment, the former GRU captain realized he had nothing to lose. "Die, dog!" He yelled, bringing up his USP and pulling the trigger.  
  
As his bullet tore out of the USP's barrel, a terrible force slammed into Vladimir's chest. Pain blossomed in his gut, and his vision went red. The last thing he saw was smoke curling out of the barrel of Ocelot's Single Action Army, and then all went black.  
  
"Thank you, comrade," Ocelot said. He turned and stepped back into the dark room Vladimir had opened.  
  
Gazing at the former Russian nuke that was now his, Ocelot pulled a radio out of his belt. "This is Shalashaska," he said. "I have the nuke. Bring a team around."  
  
Outside, high in the mists above Manhattan, a helicopter circled, waiting. Inside it was a man who was supposed to have been dead for the past nine years.  
  
"Excellent," he said. "We are one step closer to Outer Heaven." 


	2. Demands

NOTE: All Codec talk will have [ and ] in place of " and". Normal speech will, of course, use "and"  
  
  
  
Chapter One: Demands  
  
  
  
It was raining, water rushing down through the canyons of steel and glass to smash into the gray streets below, onto the thousands, millions of people scurrying about through those canyons like so many ants. One ant, an olive poncho obscuring all but his military-style boots and lower face, flicked away a cigarette as it died. "Damn things are too short," he muttered. "I need to find something that lasts longer."  
  
[Those things are going to kill you, you know.]  
  
"Don't preach," Solid Snake said. "We've gone over this time and again over the past four years."  
  
[Whatever. How does downtown look?]  
  
"The damage was pretty extensive," Snake said. "Worse than in 2001. At least a dozen large buildings went down, and more were damaged."  
  
[We know what happened there, Snake. How does downtown look today?]  
  
"It was over a year ago, Otacon," Snake said. "They cleaned it up pretty quickly. Everything's been repaired. Lucky it was a Sunday back then, although it was over twelve thousand killed."  
  
['The worst act of terrorism in U.S. history,'] Otacon said, quoting President Matthews. [I suppose he doesn't know about Shadow Moses.]  
  
"I expect he does," Snake retorted. "You think that the Patriots would let anyone know what really happened there?"  
  
[Of course not,] Otacon said. [Well, anything… different?]  
  
"What do you mean?" Snake asked.  
  
[I meant anything suspicious.] Otacon sounded chagrined.  
  
"No," Snake said. "Nothing that looks like it might house one of the Patriots' little 'projects.'"  
  
[All right,] Otacon said. [Come back home.]  
  
"See you soon," Snake said. Reaching for another cigarette, he cursed as he realized the pack was empty. "Gotta get a refill," he muttered.  
  
[A refill? Snake.]  
  
"Don't knock if it you haven't tried it."  
  
[I have.]  
  
Snake laughed and hailed a cab. The spotter sitting in the Empire State Building nodded. "He's cut communication with Emmerich," he said softly into his radio.  
  
"Copy that." The voice on the other end was gruff, but kind. "Keep him under observation."  
  
"Of course, Colonel," the spotter said. He gestured to one of his partners, who nodded and left the room.  
  
Soon, Solid Snake, the spotter thought. Soon, we'll have you back right where we want you.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
"Home" was a run-down apartment in a seedy part of New Jersey just across the bay from Manhattan. Snake and Otacon were the only white person on the street, but the clearly visible outline of his SOCOM in a pocket of his poncho kept most people away. Once he had reason to pull the FAMAS out of his large pack, it meant someone was going to die.  
  
That had happened only once. The kid had taken one look at the assault rifle, glanced down at the cheap semiautomatic handgun in his hand, then dropped it and ran like hell. Snake had given everyone else on the street a look that said, "so what? We all know you have this and worse in your little gangs. Now move along." Everyone had moved along.  
  
He'd been lucky that time. He, not to mention Otacon, didn't want everyone else in their neighborhood gunning for them, and also weren't particularly tickled at the thought that the police would be investigating their names and backgrounds (fake, of course).  
  
"Hey, Lula," Snake said to the aged black woman who owned the building he lived in. "How was your day, Jason?" she answered, a little bit warily. Snake knew she thought that he and Otacon were gay, and the thought made him laugh. Even if I was… Otacon?  
  
He unlocked the door to the apartment and kicked it open. The contrast between the interior and exterior was apparent. The floorboards were covered with a rug, the walls were clean, and the furniture wasn't ruined. The most striking change, though, was the dozens of computers and equipment in the room. Wires were everywhere. Snake sighed. "You aren't overhauling the system again, are you?" he asked.  
  
A muffled voice came from somewhere back in one of the two bedrooms. "You know we have to do it every week or they'll catch on to where we are," Otacon said.  
  
"I also know that if you keep hacking money out of Bill Gates' main bank account someone will find out sooner or later," Snake replied. "Please," Otacon said. "You know I'm too good for that."  
  
"I remember that little tune, from five years ago," Snake said. "'Oh please, I'm too good for that. Now, Snake, you have to get those photos of the new Metal Gear…'" Otacon appeared in the living room, an indignant look on his face.  
  
"Now you know that's different," he said. "That was the Patriots. This is Bill Gates."  
  
"You never know…" Snake said. "I wouldn't be surprised if the two are one and the same." Otacon laughed. "The place is clear, right?" Snake said. They had found bugs in other apartments they'd rented, and had been forced to pack up and leave as soon as they found them.  
  
"It's clear," Otacon said. "And, as I was saying, its ridiculous to think that Bill Gates is a member of the Patriots."  
  
"It was also ridiculous to think that we could find out who the Patriots really are," Snake said.  
  
"I thought we agreed that those names were fake," Otacon said.  
  
"One of our biggest contributors?" Snake said. "Information specifically to be filtered out by GW?"  
  
"Just another cover-up. The information that they died over a hundred years ago has to be fake."  
  
"I don't know…" Snake said. "I've seen odder things in my time."  
  
"…Gray Fox?" Otacon said.  
  
"Yep."  
  
The conversation was interrupted by a loud tone emitting from one of the computers. Otacon ran over to it. "What the—" he sat down on the floor and began rapidly typing and clicking away, his face dimly illuminated from the gentle glow of the monitor.  
  
"What is it?" Snake asked.  
  
"A message…"  
  
"From who?"  
  
"I… I don't know." Otacon sounded perplexed, something Snake had never seen him when he was in front of a computer. "What's the info?" Snake asked, exasperated. "We aren't as naïve as we were back at the Tanker, Otacon. Nothing could happen this time."  
  
"The message says…" Otacon hesitated.  
  
"What? Comon, Hal."  
  
Otacon looked at Snake, fear in his eyes. "The message says that a terrorist group has taken over a secret research facility below New York City. About three hundred feet directly below the Empire State Building. If their demands aren't met… they have a nuke, Snake."  
  
Solid Snake laughed. "You believe it, Otacon?" he said. "And they're going to blow up New York, right?"  
  
"Look." Otacon got up and dragged Snake over to the computer. "This is a live feed, being transmitted to somewhere in southern Manhattan."  
  
The screen was dark. "I know you can hear me… 'Patriots.'"  
  
The voice was full of hatred and loathing. Snake stiffened. He'd heard it before. "Ocelot," he muttered. "Or maybe its Liquid."  
  
A light snapped on on the screen, illuminating it. In the middle of the image stood Revolver Ocelot.  
  
Behind him was a nuclear weapon. Snake took it all in in moments. Warnings in Russian were all over the thing. "It's real," Snake said, feeling weary.  
  
"We are in your little secret research facility," another voice said. Snake stiffened. That was Liquid. But Ocelot wasn't talking. "I believe you call it… the Devil's Attic?"  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
Snake heard Otacon gasp. "Campbell? Why would he be involved in this?" Snake muttered.  
  
"You thought you had Big Boss' body all along," Liquid said, his voice light. "What fools you were."  
  
"What do you mean?" Campbell said, his voice strained.  
  
"You'll find out soon enough," Liquid said. "We want Octopus' body, the FOXDIE vaccine—I know you have it, Colonel Campbell—and the newest Metal Gear."  
  
"There are no new Metal Gears," Campbell said.  
  
"Maybe none being built by the Patriots," Liquid replied, "but I think the newest Chinese version would do nicely."  
  
"And why would you think the Chinese would give you their newest Metal Gear?" Campbell said. "And you know what, Liquid, this whole 'give us what we want or we blow up New York,' is getting rather old."  
  
"But I'm not going to blow up New York."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"I think a fitting target would be… Chernoton, Russia?"  
  
"Chernoton? Shadow Moses happened four years ago, Liquid. You lost. Give it up."  
  
"Snake is listening, Colonel. Even as we speak."  
  
"What!?"  
  
"Its true. And you don't know that this is the only nuke I possess. You know what to do."  
  
"I'm retired, Liquid. What can I do?"  
  
"Contact your little puppeteers. You know who they are."  
  
"The… Patriots?"  
  
"Correct. Oh, and Snake, we'll be seeing you soon."  
  
Snake grabbed the microphone hooked up to the computer. "Can they hear me?" he whispered to Otacon. When Hal nodded, he said, "I'm looking forward to it, brother. Cut the connection, Otacon." Hal pulled the plug out of the computer, and the screen went blank.  
  
Snake turned. "Call Nastasha," he said. "That… special line she gave you for emergencies. Tell her to get on the line with her Spetznaz contact. I want all the information he has on 'Devil's Attic.'"  
  
"Are you going in, Snake?" Otacon sounded worried. "Of course I am," Snake said, already donning his poncho. "I'm heading up the Empire State Building. Find me a way into the "Devil's Attic" when I get there. I need your help on this one. 'Philanthropy, right?'"  
  
"Yeah." Otacon got up and shook Snake's hand. "All right, buddy." As Snake put the anti-metal detector rubber around his FAMAS, SOCOM, and M9, Otacon said, "be careful, Snake. This looks to be another Shadow Moses…"  
  
"I know." Snake donned his sneaking suit and poncho. "You're even using the one from Shadow Moses," Otacon said.  
  
"If I had the one from Outer Heaven, I'd use that here, but it's gone," Snake said. "I'm finishing this here and now."  
  
"What about the Patriots?"  
  
"They can rot, for all I care." The gruffness in Snake's voice was back. "Aren't you getting a little old for this, Snake?" Otacon said.  
  
Snake laughed. "I'm only somewhere around 34, you know," he said. "I was around 15 and a half in the Gulf War. I figured that out, thanks to Mei Ling. Its only that FOXDIE is starting to work. Slowly," he said at Otacon's distressed look.  
  
He started walking out the door. "I'll be back," he said over his shoulder. "See ya later, Otacon," he said, and then he was gone. "See ya, Snake," Hal whispered. Then he sat down in front a different computer and got to work. It was going to be a long day. 


	3. Infiltration

Chapter Two: Crisis  
  
  
  
All across America, people were driving home from work listening to their radios., kids were watching TV, and in one way or another almost everyone had access to some sort of electronic device that could be used to spread information.  
  
All of them looked at their devices in surprise as they let out a high- pitched burst of static, followed by silence. Then a voice. A voice only a few recognized, but those who did cursed and immediately began calling their superiors, asking for orders.  
  
The voice of Revolver Ocelot.  
  
"Citizens of the United States of America," he said. "My name is Shalashaska. To those who know me, the name your own American government gave to me is… Revolver Ocelot. I am a former member of the Special Forces Unit FOXHOUND, a shadowy, secretive group dedicated to keeping a group of men in power. A group of men who rule this country.  
  
"The Patriots."  
  
Ocelot paused, and across the nation, TVs flickered and came on, showing Ocelot standing in a tiny, spartan room. Behind him lay the Russian nuke.  
  
"I am currently in possession of a Russian nuclear device. My group has taken over the 'Devil's Attic,' formerly a secret railroad built beneath Manhattan by a group of rich Americans at the turn of the century. Your government turned it into a research facility for nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons research. It did not matter to them that any sort of… accident could kill almost every person in the city of New York.  
  
Unless our demands are met, we will detonate this nuclear device, and blow New York City off the map. These demands will be given at a later time. Good night, America." Ocelot smiled, and disappeared.  
  
From Maine to Hawaii, people stared at their computers, TVs, and radios in disbelief. Was this some kind of hoax? Or was it really a crisis?  
  
The people of New York, unlike the rest of the country, barely noticed. They'd been subjected to enough. Over 15,000 New Yorkers killed since 1993 in terrorist attacks. Nothing fazed them anymore. They simply calmly began to head for their homes, ready to evacuate at a moments notice.  
  
The same was not true for the rest of the nation. People began frantically calling government officials, the FBI, local police, their congressman, senators, and governors. Within minutes the phone system the government had set up to take incoming calls had shut down, thanks to an overload of signals coming in.  
  
Inside the Oval Office, Jonathan Matthews sighed. This was it. The Wisemen's Committee had told him this would happen someday, and to be ready for it.  
  
He picked up his phone, the secure phone, and called the Pease Air Force Base. "This is the President," he said. "Get me Destiny on the line. Now."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Snake heard Ocelot's message as well, and lit a cigarette as soon as Ocelot's voice began to echo through the man-made canyons. Figures, he thought. Take away the power base of the Patriots and the Patriots themselves disappear. Pushing through all the Wall Street types who were making their way down to the subway, Snake made his way toward the Empire State Building.  
  
"Have you found a way in, Otacon?" he said into the Codec.  
  
[Yes. There's a freight elevator in sub-basement level two of the Empire State Building. You can take it all the way down to the Devil's Attic.]  
  
"Freight Elevator? What did I say about former missions?"  
  
[That's the only route I can find that leads to the Devil's attic, Snake. Sorry.]  
  
"It's alright. Did you find out anything about who Liquid and Ocelot are using as troops? Any other terrorists?"  
  
[I can't find anything about who they might be using, or anyone else, like another FOXHOUND squad, who might be among the leaders. You're going in dark, Snake.]  
  
Solid Snake laughed. "The way I like it," he said. "I need a way into the Empire State Building, Otacon. I'm pretty sure there aren't going to be any guided tours today. I need a maintenance door or something with an electronic lock."  
  
[Got it.] There was a pause. [Okay, there's a loading bay on the west side. I've opened the door for you.]  
  
"Good job, Otacon." Snake arrived at the Empire State Building a few minutes later. The streets were empty, deserted. Not even any police, Snake thought. He turned around a corner of the massive skyscraper and found the loading bay, the door wide open. He vaulted up over it and found himself in a large loading area filled with hundreds of crates.  
  
Snake took off his poncho and tossed it to the ground. He froze as loudly echoing footfalls rang throughout the room. Slowly taking out his M9 and checking the clip, he heard someone yell, "is there anybody there?"  
  
Ducking behind one of the crates in the room, Snake peeked around the corner and watched as a uniformed man, ostensibly a guard, stopped in front of the poncho and picked it up. "If you're in here, come out now," the guard called. The uniform he was wearing stunned Snake.  
  
The man was a Genome Soldier.  
  
I thought they were all they dead, Snake thought. The mission had suddenly gotten more complicated. If the Genome Army was here, then it meant at the least, Liquid was alive.  
  
And somehow in another body. Snake knew the Genome Soldiers wouldn't have come out of hiding simply because Ocelot had appeared.  
  
Snake ducked back behind the crate and called Otacon. "We have a problem," he whispered.  
  
[What is it?]  
  
"As far as I can tell, the lower stories of the Empire State Building have been taken over by members of the Genome Army."  
  
[What!?]  
  
"Yes. There's one about ten feet away."  
  
[You know what this means.]  
  
"I do. I'll call later."  
  
Snake leaned around the corner of the crate and took aim with his M9. Relaxing to absorb recoil, he exhaled and pulled the trigger. He quickly reloaded, and watched as the dart plunged itself into the guard's neck.  
  
The Genome Soldier let out a low moan and fell to the ground, unconscious. Loud snores soon followed. Snake quickly checked the body and took one of the rations the guard had on him, along with the grenades he carried. "Five five sixers and pineapples," Snake muttered. "Just like Shadow Moses."  
  
Moving quickly, Snake dragged the man into a dark corner, then made his way to the other side of the room. He found a locked door and said, "Otacon."  
  
[Yes?]  
  
"I need another door opened."  
  
[What's the number on it?]  
  
Snake looked for a moment until he found it. "AX-2934."  
  
[Got it.]  
  
The door slid open silently. [That should take you the whole way down to sub-basement level one. The elevator is on level 2.]  
  
"Thanks, Otacon." Snake walked through the door, and found a long metal staircase descending into darkness. "Here I go," Snake muttered, and starting running down the stairs.  
  
Watching him on one of the many security cameras dotting the lower levels, Ocelot said, "Our boy's arrived. Right on schedule. Just like last time." 


	4. White Devil

Chapter Three: White Devil  
  
  
  
The staircase went of forever, or at least that was how it seemed to Snake. His footsteps rang loudly off the metal steps as he rushed down into the darkness. "Have you downloaded the plans of the Empire State Building yet, Otacon?" he asked. "My radar would be nice in this darkness."  
  
[Sorry, Snake. It seems everyone this side of LA is trying to download those plans. I'll have them in a few minutes, I promise.]  
  
"Alright," Snake said. "Have you informed Jack?"  
  
[I think he legally changed his name to Raiden… no one ever said he had all his lights on upstairs.]  
  
Snake chuckled. "That was pretty dumb, but not his fault. So what about him?"  
  
[I tried to contact him… but he's disappeared.]  
  
"What?"  
  
[Well, he wasn't at the address he gave us, and all the secret lines we set up with him have been cut off… and his nanomachines aren't transmitting anymore. It's like he's disappeared off the face of the earth.]  
  
Snake grimaced. "We know what that means," he said.  
  
[I do.]  
  
"I'll see if there's any connection to this," Snake said. "I'm at the bottom of the stairwell. Talk to you soon."  
  
[Copy that.]  
  
Snake slowly made his way down the last few stairs and onto a large landing. It appeared to have been turned into some kind of lounge: there were a few battered couches, a table with some magazines, and a pop machine. Snake noticed something lying on one of the couches. "A pair of NVGs? (Night Vision Goggles) Not bad," he said, putting them around his neck. "No more problems with the dark anymore around here."  
  
The sound of an oncoming subway train made Snake pause. "Otacon," he said, "are there subway stations below the Empire State Building?"  
  
[Yes. There's one on Level One, where you are, and another on sub-basement Level Four.]  
  
"Wonderful," Snake said. "I think hostages are about to enter the equation."  
  
[Great.]  
  
Snake left the landing/lounge and opened another door that opened into the Level One subway station. The area seemed empty, but Snake could see several Genome Soldiers lurking about in the shadows, waiting for something. Off to one side, behind the counter of a Starbucks, was a machine gun emplacement. "Not good," Snake muttered.  
  
[What?]  
  
"Either the Genome Soldiers are going to massacre everyone as they step off the next subway train, or they're going to take them hostage—"  
  
"Who're you!?"  
  
"Damn!" Snake said as he whipped around, pulling out his SOCOM and shooting the Genome Soldier in the head all in half a second, a perfect red hole appearing in his forehead. There was a wet slapping sound as the man's brains spattered onto the floor behind him. The man crumpled, dead.  
  
"I have an unknown hostile in the area! I need backup, now!"  
  
Snake could hear the call come out from one of the Genome Soldiers nearby, and the reaction was immediate. The machine gun swung in Snake's general position, and Soldiers began to scour the area. [Snake, find somewhere to hide!] Otacon yelled. [It's a clearing!]  
  
"I know," Snake said tersely. "This place is too open." Unsnapping the FAMAS off his back, he put the M9 and SOCOM into their respective holsters and darted out of cover, running for what appeared to be a small lavatory nearby.  
  
Bullets ricocheted off the concrete floor all around him. "There he is!" someone yelled. The volume of fire picked up, and Snake grunted as he felt one of the bullets slam into the hard leather and thin layer of kevlar that comprised his combat boots. It made the boots heavy and hard to kick with, but it was better than getting ones foot blown off.  
  
It worked here. The bullet cut through the leather and kevlar and stopped mere millimeters from Snake's calf. Snake sprayed the station area with fire, short staccato bursts that made the Genome Soldiers keep their heads down more than anything. He still heard a man behind him yell, "dammit, my arm!" as one of the bullets from the FAMAS struck him.  
  
[Found a place to hide yet, Snake?]  
  
"Not the time, Otacon," Snake said shortly. "But yes. There's a small lavatory about twenty meters away. I'll be there in moments"  
  
[Good. Be careful, Snake.]  
  
Snake reached the lavatory in moments, ducking in and looking for a place to hide. He noticed it in moments: a small, uncovered ventilation shaft in the floor. Hope it leads me back to the station, he thought, quickly crawling into the shaft as he heard the footsteps of the Genome Soldiers right outside the door.  
  
"Be careful, men! Go!"  
  
The door flew open and a squad of the white-clad terrorists quickly moved in. "Search the room!" the lieutenant ordered. The Soldiers quickly spread out through the room, checking each stall. "He's not here, sir," one of them said. "He has to be here!" The lieutenant cried. His radio crackled. "Report your status, Johnson," a voice ordered. "What's going on down there? Over."  
  
"We have an intruder, sir, but he has eluded us for now," Johnson said. "He killed Nurwitzki and shot Brown in the arm. Over."  
  
"Killed Nurwitzki, you say? We'll send down another two squads. Be careful, Johnson. The meeting is about to begin. Be on your guard. Over and out."  
  
"Understood, sir. Over and out." As the Soldiers began to leave the lav, Johnson turned to one and said, "guard this room. No one goes in out unless he's in our colors or with one of our people."  
  
"Yes, sir," the man said, gripping his assault rifle harder. Snake slowly inched back into the shaft farther, and spent the next several minutes twisting his way through the ventilation system until he could see the station again. "I got away," he whispered to Otacon. "Looks like the next train is going to be coming in in moments," Snake said.  
  
[Be careful, Snake. That was a close one back there.]  
  
"No closer than a hundred others over the years."  
  
[True.]  
  
"Wait. Here comes the train."  
  
The subway train came roaring in, most of it passing by the station until it slowed down, brakes squealing against the tracks as it came to a stop. The doors slid open, and a mass of people began slowly moving out of the train.  
  
And into the guns of the Genome Army.  
  
The machine gun went off, the sound of a giant ripping huge bolts of cloth. People began screaming and running around, as the other soldiers of the Genome Army mowed them down.  
  
Snake was amazed. "This is new," he muttered to Otacon. "They're killing the potential hostages."  
  
[Killing?! How many people do you think are dead, Snake?]  
  
"Over a hundred, at least. More than that wounded."  
  
[But for what purpose?]  
  
"I don't know."  
  
The shooting stopped. The Genome Soldiers began moving through the bodies, occasionally finishing off someone badly injured, other times picking up ones with superficial wounds and taking them hostage. "Not a bad plan," Snake muttered.  
  
[What?]  
  
"They kill some hostages, and keep the wounded ones alive. Immediately you know they mean business and that they have hostages to do it again."  
  
[That's sick.]  
  
"It's also effective. Wait, someone else is coming off the train."  
  
Snake watched as a man of average height, in a black trench coat, and with a shock of hair so blonde it was almost white, step off the train. He let his coat drop to the floor, and beneath it was a sneaking suit Snake recognized as a "Skull Suit."  
  
It can't be, he thought.  
  
"I've given you what you want," the man said. "The government is fully ready to give you the body of Decoy Octopus—its useless to us, anyway—and we're entering high-level negotiations with the Chinese to get their newest Metal Gear."  
  
"How are you going to convince them?" a voice said from the shadows. Snake recognized that voice. But from where?  
  
"We've moved elements of the Pacific Fleet to the Chinese coast. Specifically, Shanghai, Hong Kong, and Beijing. If the Chinese don't cooperate, we'll kill about 300 million of them in the course of an hour."  
  
The voice laughed. "The United States of America, shining beacon of liberty, peace, and prosperity, holding a country hostage through nuclear weaponry."  
  
"I note you've done it twice," the man said. "And failed."  
  
"That's beside the point," the voice snapped. Then Snake realized who it was. CO of the Genome Army, Dolphus Raymond. He'd disappeared before Shadow Moses, after the creation of the Next-Generation Special Forces. Campbell had told him about Raymond on the U.S.S. Discovery, en route to Shadow Moses.  
  
"Otacon," Snake said. "Raiden's here."  
  
[What?!]  
  
"He's acting as some sort of liaison between the terrorists and the government." Snake paused. "Or possibly been the terrorists and the la-li- lu-le-lo."  
  
[That name is ridiculous, Snake. Use 'Patriots.']  
  
"I don't think they are Patriots, Otacon. Think of the name. Sounds Native American, doesn't it? Check it out for me."  
  
[Alright, Snake.]  
  
Turning back to watch Raiden, he heard the former FOXHOUND commando say, "don't call me 'Raiden' anymore. It's 'White Devil,' now." The man in the shadows nodded; Snake could see a dim outline of him. "And as for the la-li- lu-le-lo," Raiden said, "I'm not interested in sticking with them." He walked through the corpses over Raymond and shook his hand.  
  
"What the hell—" Snake said. "Otacon, Raiden is joining the terrorists."  
  
[Impossible. Unless… the Patriots want him to join.]  
  
"That's what I'm thinking. Find out what 'la-li-lu-le-lo' means. Now"  
  
[Got it.]  
  
Otacon cut the connection, and Snake started looking for a way out of the ventilation system. It was going to be a long day… 


	5. Betrayal

Chapter Four: Betrayal  
  
  
  
President Matthews was not a patient man. He waited on hold for ten minutes before handing the phone to Pease AFB in New Hampshire to an aide and calling the Vice President on another line. He waited there on hold for another five minutes; Robert Mulgrew was on vacation in Minnesota, and was not easily reachable by phone. By the time he got Mulgrew on the line, the call to Pease had been completed. As the aide handed the phone to him, Matthews shoved the other one into his hand. "Here, brief the VP," he said, before turning his full attention to Pease.  
  
"I assume I'm speaking to Destiny?" he said. The other end was silent for a moment before a man's voice came over, strong and vibrant. "Yes, Mr. President."  
  
"You know about the situation in Manhattan."  
  
"Yes, Mr. President."  
  
"We have to have it resolved. The Wisemen's Committee—"  
  
"Don't say it over the phone, Mr. President."  
  
Matthews chided himself. "Of course, Destiny."  
  
"What do you want FOXHOUND to do about the situation, President Matthews?"  
  
"I want you to assemble a three man team, comprising of you and the best two members of FOXHOUND you have. You are to infiltrate the Devil's Attic and kill Liquid Snake and Revolver Ocelot."  
  
"The Genome Army?"  
  
"They'll be handled easily enough by Snake."  
  
There was surprise in Destiny's voice when he spoke: "Solid Snake? He's there?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Should we… take care of him, as well."  
  
Matthews' voice became cold. "No. Under no circumstances is Solid Snake even to know your men are there. Understood?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You will leave immediately, and take a plane to JFK. From there, you'll be given your gear and transported to the Empire State Building. Your COA (course of action) is entirely up to you, but it must end in the deaths of Revolver Ocelot, Liquid Snake, and the resolution of the incident."  
  
"Understood."  
  
"Do your job, Destiny, if you ever want to see the outside of Pease ever again. Got it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Matthews hung up and turned, in time to get a memo thrust into his hands. As he read it, his eyes widened. "Balls," he said. Turning to the aide who had been talking to the Vice President, he said, "get the Joint Chiefs of Staff in here, now. And clear these people out." As the room emptied, Matthews considered the problem before him. What he was about to do would be going against the la-li-lu-le-lo's orders, but how could they have known the Chinese would slip a nuclear sub through the blockade and get within range of the West Coast?  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
At Pease Air Force Base in New Hampshire, Destiny hung up the phone and turned to the guard. "Get me Tank and Vulture," he said. The guard nodded and left. Sitting down on his chair, the only padded piece of furniture the FOXHOUNDs were allowed, Destiny sighed. This mission would result in the death of himself, Vulture, and Tank. There was no way around it. The Patriots were using them to resolve the situation and institute a cover-up.  
  
It was getting harder to cover-up things these days. How could you cover up a huge battle fortress around 12 square blocks in area slamming into lower Manhattan? How could you conceal Revolver Ocelot, of all people, overriding all signals and broadcasting his threat to blow a chunk of Long Island off the map on national television, with at least 40 million people watching?  
  
The news coverage had been intense and quick. Tom Brokaw, Dan Rather, Peter Jennings (Destiny always wondered why they hadn't retired yet) had been quickly flown from New York to Philadelphia, and were talking and talking and talking, live video of New York's skyline as the background. As if the terrorists would really detonate the nuke. Destiny had found that, in over twenty years of fighting terrorists in "black ops," that the bad guys, in the end, didn't have the guts to pull the trigger, push the button, because invariably the nuke was right beside them and they didn't want to die any more than they wanted to get caught.  
  
The only time that hadn't proven true was September 11th, of course. Destiny had been part of the Mossad back then, the Israeli intelligence agency. Best in the world, they'd bragged, and Destiny'd found out they were right. The suicide bombings? Fanatics. The dangerous ones were the guys who wanted to live. Destiny had killed more than his share of them during his time in Israel.  
  
The phone rang again. Destiny picked it up. Who could it be? "Hello?" he asked warily.  
  
"Hello." The word was spoken in Hebrew, and that was all that Destiny needed to know. "Commander," he said, also in Hebrew. "You have a plan?"  
  
"Of course we do," he said. "We are reviving the Hawks. We want you and your team to come over to us."  
  
"I'd like nothing more than that," Destiny said, "but I can't do anything until we're in Manhattan."  
  
"Understood. Also, our government would like to thank you for the Metal Gear RAY plans you gave us. You will be rewarded once you land at Ben- Gurion airport."  
  
"After the mission."  
  
"Yes. After the mission. We have forty RAYs off the coast of Long Island, waiting to pick you up and cover your escape."  
  
"I got it. We'll be there."  
  
"Good luck, Destiny."  
  
As the Mossad man on the other line hung up, Destiny brightened as he saw Tank and Vulture coming down the hall toward him. Yes, he was getting out of here. Yes, he was finally going home.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
As people all across America stayed glued to their TVs, at home, school, or work, the images of Dan Rather and others were broken into, once again, by Revolver Ocelot. "To show the rulers of this country that we mean business, we have arranged a… demonstration."  
  
The images of the subway massacre were transmitted all over the world, and most people who saw them were shocked. But others… others laughed at how impotent the Unites States really was, and realized how easily their plans could also come to fruition. The smarter ones also realized they had to wait and see if Ocelot's plan worked, or if it went crashing down in flames. "Our demands are: The body of a FOXHOUND operative, Decoy Octopus; the newest Metal Gear design from the Chinese, and the vaccine for a virus developed by your own government: FOXDIE. That is all. Have a nice lunch, America."  
  
This time, the reaction was more muted. Most people expressed outrage, outrage that this could happen and outrage that apparently nothing was being done to stop it. Once again, the government's phone system went down.  
  
And sitting in a parlor in a café in London, the man who was supposed to be dead smiled. Outer Heaven was close. So close.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Snake watched as Raiden, or White Devil as he was now being called, was escorted by Raymond back into the station. "Well, Jack, what do you think of our little operation here?"  
  
"Sloppy," Raiden answered. "And its either Raiden or White Devil, not Jack. I left that behind me."  
  
Raymond's face fell. "Sloppy?" he said. "How so?"  
  
"For starters," Raiden said, "Solid Snake is here."  
  
"Snake? Here? Don't be ridiculous."  
  
"Your men already know. One of them's been killed. But you don't. Pretty inefficient, Commander."  
  
Slowly crawling out of the ventilation shaft, Snake put his FAMAS on his back and pulled out his SOCOM. Raiden was only about thirty meters away, he couldn't miss… there was no way he could miss…  
  
Snake pulled the trigger. The noise seemed deafening, a crashing roar emitting from the gun as the bullet screamed out of the barrel. Everyone turned toward him, and he could hear someone shouting, "there he is! After him!" But he didn't notice, all his focus was on Raiden.  
  
Raiden was focusing on Snake, too. He pulled out his sword and knocked the bullet away, all in a fraction of a second. Then he pulled out an M4 from his trench coat on the ground and began spraying the area with bullets, causing both Snake and the Genome Soldiers to put their heads down. "I really need to find a SOCOM Suppressor," Snake muttered as he ran behind a series of wooden crates, bullets tearing into them and sending wood chips flying everywhere. "Raiden has gotten a mite better with that sword."  
  
[Not the time to be giving respect to your enemies, Snake. Get out of there.]  
  
"I know that," Snake said, turning for a moment to fire back, catching a Genome Soldier in the chest with a burst of three bullets. The man fell backwards, blood spurting from his mouth.  
  
"Don't let him get away!" Raiden yelled. Snake found himself starting at a large steel door, leading to a storage area, it read. "Otacon, I need door B12-9843 opened, now!" He yelled, "and then locked again on my signal!"  
  
[I'm on it, Snake.]  
  
"Well, get on it a bit faster," Snake yelled as he pulled out his FAMAS and raked the oncoming terrorists with fire. They fell, some dead, others taking cover. Snake heard the door open behind him. He dashed in. "Now, Otacon!" he yelled.  
  
The door closed. In the complete darkness, Snake struggled to get the NVGs on. Then he stopped. "Who's there?" he said.  
  
The sound of laughter echoed throughout the room, followed by heavy breathing. "I think you'll remember me from this," a voice said.  
  
"'Five today… or rather, six?'"  
  
Snake snarled. "Blood-sucker," he said, fitting the Night Vision Goggles over his head. The room came into focus, in varying shades of green, black, and yellow.  
  
"I'm glad you remember me," Vamp said, as Snake looked frantically around the room, trying to find him. "As I told your little friend Jack, now my little friend Jack, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "Show me what you've got!"  
  
  
  
Can Snake defeat Vamp in the dark, even with the NVGs? What about Destiny and the Israeli Mossad? And what's up with Raiden? Find out, in about 25 more chapters or so :p. 


	6. Level Two

Chapter Five: Level Two  
  
  
  
"Very generous of you, giving me the darkness and you the advantage," Snake said. "Complaining, Snake? That's one thing I'd heard the legendary Solid Snake never does, complain. Do you really want to shatter my image of you."  
  
"Let's get this over with, bloodsucker," Snake said.  
  
"Very well. Get ready!"  
  
Snake sensed movement in front of him, and then he was slammed back into the door with incredible force. He felt one of Vamp's knives slashing into his left arm, and he grunted. Pulling his legs back, he booted Vamp in the stomach, knocking the former Dead Cell member back. Pulling out his SOCOM, he fired into the darkness, and was rewarded with a grunt, and the pressure on his chest disappearing. He sensed movement again, and ducked. This time the sound of a knife spanging! off the metal door behind him was his reward.  
  
"C'mon, Vamp, I heard you were better than that," Snake said. "You'll see," Vamp said, his breathing labored. Lung shot? Snake thought. But he shouldn't be affected. He took two shots to the head and one to the gut out in the Big Shell, and he came back. "Why are you here, Vamp?" he yelled. "Ocelot and Liquid betrayed Dead Cell."  
  
"After the Big Shell, I was freelance for a year or so. You may have noticed the name of an 'unknown operative' in the Middle East who killed the head of Iraq's nuclear program. After that, Liquid contacted me." Vamp smiled, although Snake couldn't see it. "The Israelis were most appreciative."  
  
"I would expect so," Snake said, lunging out with a foot and blocking Vamps incoming hand. The knife in that hand was knocked out and fell to the floor. "Age hasn't slowed you down one bit, Snake," Vamp said. Snake grinned. "I can remember someone else saying that, on Shadow Moses."  
  
"I do believe you may have broken my wrist, Solid Snake," Vamp said. "No matter. Dodge this!"  
  
Through the pale green glow of the NVGs, Snake could see at least ten knives hurtling through the air toward him. He tried to leap out of the way, but he let out a gasp as two of the knives slashed into him. One hit him in the left arm, and the other in the left thigh. He hit the ground and rolled, coming up firing from his SOCOM. He checked the wounds; both were bleeding, but not much. He quickly bandaged them up and fired again, and heard Vamp say, "damn you, Snake." He said it very slowly, and his breathing was even more labored.  
  
"Starting to get a little mad, Vamp?" Snake said. "Unable to hit me?"  
  
"I wouldn't say that." Snake didn't even hear the knife coming this time. Only because he had bent over slightly to pull a new clip out for his SOCOM was he still breathing moments later. The knife sliced off some skin on the back of his neck, leaving a long bloody streak.  
  
Snake shut his mind off from the pain, and noticed that Vamp was crouched, staring at him. Only a few feet away.  
  
I'm dead, Snake thought. Damn. Barely half an hour into the mission and he was dead. This isn't happening.  
  
But that didn't happen. Instead, Vamp reeled back, clutching his chest. "You—bastard!" he yelled. "Can't you even die right?"  
  
What the hell? Snake thought. This was getting too much like Shadow Moses. He turned—and looked into the face of Frank Jaeger.  
  
Or rather, the face of a Ninja.  
  
"What the—?" he said, and then the Ninja was gone. He turned to look back to Vamp, but the bloodsucking terrorist was gone as well. All that remained was a large bloodstain, and a blood-covered knife, lying on the ground. Snake knelt down and took a ration, feeling better as the MRE quickly went through his system. "Otacon?" he said.  
  
[Yeah?]  
  
"What have you got on la-li-lu-le-lo?"  
  
[Not much. And what about that Ninja, Snake? I'm getting a feed from your night vision goggles?]  
  
"I don't know. This is getting too much like Shadow Moses."  
  
[Orchestrated?]  
  
"Yes. I'm thinking of getting the hell outta here. But what would happen if I did, and Liquid really does detonate the nuke? I have to take care of Raiden, too."  
  
[You know that isn't Jack's fault. Most likely, we did an inferior job protecting him, and the Patriots got to him.]  
  
"Just like we couldn't save Olga's baby," Snake said bitterly.  
  
[Hey… that wasn't our fault. We confirmed that the other operative, whoever he was, got the baby out of the country and back to Russia.]  
  
"That's not the point. I should have been the one to do it."  
  
[You can't do everything, Snake. Now head to Level Two, and get to the Devil's Attic. Ocelot presented the government with a deadline while you were fighting Vamp. They have twelve hours, or the city of New York will cease to exist.]  
  
"That's nice."  
  
[That's what I thought. Get moving, Snake!]  
  
Snake nodded. "Catch you once I'm in the elevator, Otacon," he said. Moving quickly across the storage room, Snake found an open crate with a ration, and several clips of M9, SOCOM, and FAMAS ammo. Pocketing them, Snake opened a door with the words "Level Two: (" Snake found himself looking down another flight of stairs. He soon disappeared into the gloom.  
  
  
  
Watching from his post above the room, Vamp and the sniper watched Snake go. "Who was that Ninja!?" Vamp hissed, clutching his broken wrist. "I don't know," the sniper said. "Whoever it is, I'm beginning to think this is all being manipulated as well."  
  
"I don't care if is," Vamp said. "Get in touch with your contact on the outside. Find out who that Ninja is. And if we are being manipulated, then I'll touch off the nuke myself."  
  
"What if that's what they want you to do?"  
  
Vamp smiled. "Then who am I to disappoint them?" He let a grunt, and then he was gone, leaping across the room.  
  
The sniper sighed and pulled out a cell phone. Quickly dialing a number, the sniper said, "James, find out who that Ninja is."  
  
"I'm on it, boss," James said, and hung up.  
  
The sniper stood. Soon Solid Snake and I will meet. And then we will see who is the best.  
  
  
  
Sorry for Chapter Five here being a little short, its more a less a Boss Fight, Snake vs. Vamp. In Chapter Six the action heats up as bombs planted across New York start blowing up, and war in the Pacific seems very real. Can Solid Snake stop Liquid and the Patriots at the same time? 


	7. FOXHOUND

People if you'd also like to write Metal Gear fics (or currently are) a great site for research on personnel, weapons and vehicles is the Snake Hole http://www.angelfire.com/games4/mgs_tea/index.html It's where I do my research. It may be an "amateur" site, not like gamefaqs or gamerevolution, but it's a superior MGS site. Check it out!  
  
  
  
Chapter Six: FOXHOUND  
  
  
  
The SH-60 Seahawk swiftly made its way from Pease AFB in New Hampshire to JFK International Airport in New York, roaring over sleepy mountains and shallow valleys, making residents look up into the sky and wonder just what was going on now, with the drama playing out in New York.  
  
JFK had seen its share of terrorism as well, in recent years: one runway was still closed, a huge crater blasted into it when a missile from one of the Metal Gear RAYS being used at the "Big Shell" had gone berserk, thanks to Emma's virus, and began randomly shooting missiles into the sky. The government had covered that up as well, saying a Neo-Nazi terrorist had dropped from a helicopter in restricted airspace and fired the missile while in mid-air. A horribly burned body, portable missile launcher, and ruins of a helicopter the Air Force had said it had shot down were shown to the media, and no one thought any different… although a few thought it odd the terrorist had fired his missile at an empty runway.  
  
  
  
As the helicopter descended and landed with a slight bump onto the tarmac, Army personnel began rushing up to it, pulling open the side doors and hustling Destiny, Tank, and Vulture out. One man stuck his hand, and Destiny shook it. "I'm Brigadier General Richard Ames," the man said. "Ames?" Destiny said. "Didn't you die on the Big Shell?"  
  
"Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated," Ames said, and Destiny realized the man before him looked nothing like the Richard Ames he'd seen in countless case files. A liaison for the Patriots. I'll have to remember that, Destiny thought. As he stepped off the tarmac and onto the cold concrete, he said, "who's our contact here?"  
  
"I am." A man of average height, black hair (rather spiky for a government operative, Destiny thought. This isn't some Japanese anime,) and cold, piercing blue eyes shook Destiny's hand. "My name is Sphere. I'll provide you with weapons, and support by Codec once your on-target."  
  
"I see." Destiny said. He didn't see, but it would not help to let Sphere know that. Sphere looked to be about 19, if even that. Great, a kid as mission leader… "So we decide our COA?"  
  
"Correct," Sphere said. "But, we will be handling the infiltration method. While you were in the air a general evacuation of New York County was issued. Over 20 million people will be trying to get of the city and the surrounding areas. We'll insert you by helicopter, specifically three AH-64 Apaches. They may not be the best in dropping people, but they have the armor and firepower you'll probably need as a distraction."  
  
"I see." That was all Destiny could say. AH-64 Apache? Sure, it'd been the best combat helicopter in the world until around 2002. But this was 2009. Surely they could've spared a few AH-92 Apache-Cs, or something.  
  
Two Army Rangers came up, lugging a large crate. Sphere opened it, revealing several M4 Assault Carbines, at least a dozen grenade belts, all full, and one PSG1-A Sniper Rifle. "Better laser sight than a PSG1," Sphere said. "Longer range, semiautomatic, just like the PSG1. Less effected by the natural trembling of the hands and body."  
  
"Good." Destiny grabbed an M4, the PSG1-A and tossed it to Vulture, and several grenade belts. "Got any rations in your toy box there?" he asked.  
  
Sphere nodded. "Dig through it, there's about 30 or so, 10 each for you. Also, Scopes, NVGs, and Infrared goggles." Looking at the prisoner fatigues the three FOXHOUNDs were wearing, he said, "that just won't do. Here." He dug into the box himself, and came up with three Sneaking Suits. "Almost identical to the one Snake used on Shadow Moses."  
  
"That's all well and good," Vulture said. She was a tall woman, at least 6'3", and the most beautiful person Destiny had ever seen. She was a crack shot with a Sniper Rifle, and an accident in her childhood had caused her to lose all feeling in her hands, and thus thanks to the accident, her hands didn't tremble at all. She didn't need to take any kind of drugs like Pentazemin or Diazepam, and if she shot at 15 targets at a range of 1500 meters and hit 14, she considered it wasting ammunition.  
  
"Let's get going," Destiny said. Tank and Vulture nodded. Sphere said, "oh, Tank, here you are." He presented the FOXHOUND with an RGB6 Grenade Launcher, seemingly out of midair. Throwing the M4 he'd been carrying down on the ground with disdain, Tank smiled. "This is my kinda weapon," he said.  
  
A dull roar grew in the background, and rose until it was deafening as three AH-64 Apaches circled the runway and gently set down a hundred meters away. "There are your rides," Sphere said. "Get moving."  
  
Clambering into one of the Apaches, Destiny could dimly make out the water of the harbor. Something was moving under there. Something big. What are my Mossad friends up to? He thought as the Apache rose into the air. What are they planning to do?  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Several stories below an army compound in Jerusalem, Roy Peter watched by satellite linkup as one of the Metal Gear RAYS the Mossad had in New York Harbor moved into range of the Empire State Building. One of his aides came up to him. "Shall we fire, sir?" he asked.  
  
"I'm thinking," Peter, or PeteRoy, as he liked to be called, said. "Are you sure there is no way the rulers of that country can find out we did it? I want no war with the United States."  
  
"A… deal has been worked out with them, sir," the aide said. "Nothing will happen to the state of Israel."  
  
Peter nodded. He'd had to make decisions like these over the years, decisions that ultimately protected Israel and the world, but decisions that usually killed people in the thousands by the time all was said and done. "Fire," he whispered.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Dan Rather hated the CBS News Philadelphia branch. Compared to the one in New York, it looked like some station in a backwoods town with a population of 15,000. There was one makeup room that everyone had to use, and the chair he was sitting on was far too large for him. "And… now," the cameraman said, pointing to Rather. He put on a smile for the millions who were watching and said, "and now here we have footage of United States helicopters, which CBS News has confirmed launched from Pease Air Force Base in New Hampshire and landed at JFK International airport minutes ago. The tape came on, showing helicopters weaving through the steel canyons of New York. "The motives of the government at the moment are unknown. And—" then the light on top of the camera blinked off.  
  
"What's going on!?" Rather said. "Who cut us off!?"  
  
"Don't know," the cameraman said. "Its like when that Ocelot guy made his demands."  
  
Rather turned to the producer, who had flown down to Philadelphia with them. "Get us back on the air, now!" he yelled.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The Metal Gear RAY chosen to fire did not know what it was targeting, and did not care. It rose quickly and powerfully to the surface, opening the missile hatch on its back. It fired three missiles, the recoil pushing it back down underwater.  
  
The missiles screamed through the air, blue flame jetting from their engines. They locked onto their target and swung toward it.  
  
Half a second later, they hit, spilling light over the island of Manhattan.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The live feed of Manhattan came back on first. "We are having… technical difficulties here at CBS, sorry for the delay—" Rather said, before he stopped and turned to see the image of Manhattan as everyone around him gasped.  
  
So did Rather. The feed showed three missiles arcing through the air, dodging buildings—before slamming into the side of the Empire State Building.  
  
In the streets of Manhattan, thousands of people trying to evacuate got out of their cars and started to run as dust and smoke billowed out from the explosion, filling the sky.  
  
The Empire State Building had not been built to take stresses over much more than possibly a small plane slamming into it. The effect of three missiles was immediate. The building began to fall, devastating almost a dozen square blocks of huge skyscrapers and small uptown apartments as it did so. Thousands on the ground were killed as huge chunks of steel and concrete fell onto the street, crushing them and their cars.  
  
Dozens of huge explosions lit up the sides of the remaining skyscrapers, and a huge area of devastation appeared in the middle of Manhattan, with fires and smoke twisting into the sky. It looked like a portal to Hell itself.  
  
Sirens began to wail all over New York. Dan Rather was stunned. "People of the United States of America," he said. "We have been shown just how vulnerable we are once again. The Empire State Building, one of the most historic buildings in the world, has come down. Not like the Twin Towers, collapsing on themselves, but instead taking out dozens of other, large skyscrapers as well. Casualties are sure to rise higher than our largest terrorist attack, the "Big Shell Incident" of three years ago."  
  
Rather was surprised to find that tears were glistening on his cheeks. An aide ran to his side and handed him a piece of paper. "I am told that the President of the United States is about to make a statement at the White House. And now, the President of the United States."  
  
Jonathan Matthews appeared on the screen, looking weary. "People of the United States," he said, "we have been hit another hammer blow. Once again, New York, shining center of our nation, has been bracketed and fired upon by the enemies of the United States.  
  
"But if they are the hammer, then we are the anvil. And when a hammer hits an anvil enough, the hammer breaks. This is true, and will happen. We will rebuild New York, as it was before these heinous attacks, and we will also hunt down those responsible and make them feel the pain and sorrow we feel, before we send down our justice. There will be no mercy, no cry for the "rights" of the attackers. They will be ruthlessly hunted down like the animals they are and destroyed. I express sorrow and regret for the families of those killed. I have nothing else to say at this time." His image disappeared, to be replaced by Dan Rather once again. "And so, as you heard from the President, we have been hit with another "hammer blow." And so the cycle of violence continues. Will we truly hunt down those responsible, or bend under international pressure? I'm Dan Rather with CBS News. We will continue coverage of this tragedy…"  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Snake heard a low roar above him. It soon turned deafening. [Snake, run!] Otacon yelled. [Someone's brought down the Empire State Building and a chunk of midtown Manhattan! Get to the Devil's Attic!]  
  
Snake started running for the elevator. As he ran, he heard the surprised shouts of the Genome Soldiers he passed. Bullets ricocheted all around him. But then the ceiling started coming down, and the Genome Soldiers became more worried about their own lives than with Snake.  
  
Reaching the elevator, Snake dodged a huge piece of cement falling down toward him and jumped into the elevator. He hit the lowest button and watched as the doors closed. Comon, he thought. Move it!  
  
The elevator started moving downward… slowly. [Snake, are you alright?] Otacon asked. "Yes," Snake said. "How bad is it?" The floor of the elevator bucked, and Snake grabbed on to the handrails to keep upright.  
  
[Bad. It looks like everything in a two or three block radius from the Empire State Building is down. Casualties estimates are upward of 50,000, and climbing by the moment.]  
  
"Bastards," Snake said. "But who did it?"  
  
[No one knows. The missiles that hit the building were fired from the bay.]  
  
"Fired from the bay…" Snake's eyes suddenly acquired a hardened look. "The Patriots."  
  
[It seems like it.]  
  
The elevator descended into darkness, something closer to Hell above it than  
  
below.  
  
  
  
So there's Chapter Six! How will Destiny and his FOXHOUND comrades get into the Devil's Attic? Bet you didn't expect the Empire State Building coming down :p. And how is Liquid in a different body? How was he able to survive in an arm anyway? All will be revealed, but you have to read it to find out! 


	8. Big Boss

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In no way was I exploiting the terrorist attacks on America on September 11th, 2001, in chapter six. All of the other authors here who do large MGS novels have thrown about the idea of nuking Manhattan or bringing down a skyscraper or two, so please don't flame me about it, because it shows your ignorance of what happened in New York and Washington on that day. ALSO: "Roy" is not Colonel Roy Campbell, so please don't think that.  
  
AUTHOR'S RANT: I also don't see how suicide bombers in Israel who do the same thing Mohammed Atta and the others did on September 11th but on a smaller scale (not to mention without airplanes) can be called "just" and "right" by the world community while at the same time they condemn the September 11th hijackers. END OF AUTHOR'S RANT. ALL CLEAR.  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven: Big Boss  
  
  
  
Destiny watched in mute silence as the Empire State Building fell. [Destiny?]  
  
"Is that you, Roy?"  
  
[Yes.]  
  
"How could you do this?" Destiny felt betrayed. How could they? This was his adopted country, more than Israel ever would be.  
  
[If it makes you feel any better, I am truly sorry. You don't know how many times I've had to do this over this, how bad I've felt--]  
  
"Shut up. The deal's off."  
  
[Don't do this, Destiny.]  
  
"Sorry, Roy."  
  
[Fine. I really am sorry, John.]  
  
Destiny hissed. "Don't call me that," he said. "And don't ever call me again."  
  
There was a silence. [If that's what you want. Just remember, when you're in trouble, we'll be there. Goodbye, John.] And then the call ended.  
  
Bastard, Destiny thought. How could he?  
  
How could he, indeed.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Liquid Snake was watching the deadline timer, watching as it counted down. So close, he thought. Close to finding out just where Big Boss is. If he's alive. If he's dead.  
  
Ocelot came up to him. "We've lost the feed from the major news stations," he said. "What's going on?"  
  
Liquid stood. "I don't know," he said. Walking over to the bank of monitors in the Devil's Attic's control room, he took a step back in surprise as the monitors snapped back on—in time to show the missiles slamming into the Empire State Building. "Jesus!" Liquid yelled. "Everybody, get under cover!" He leapt into a doorframe and firmly planted himself there, watching as Vamp and Ocelot scrambled around.  
  
The whole room rattled. Outside, Liquid could hear the Genome Soldiers yell as they stumbled about. The room "settled down" in moments, and Liquid watched as most of midtown Manhattan was devastated. He said one word: "damn."  
  
"Who did it?" Ocelot asked. "I don't know, but it will be blamed on us," Liquid said. "The devastation… they must know we would never nuke Manhattan. Sure, some hole in Russia or China…"  
  
"What about that Raiden?" Ocelot said. "He has to be a spy for the Patriots."  
  
"Like you were?" Liquid asked harshly.  
  
"That was then. This is now," Ocelot countered calmly. Raiden then entered the room. "Speak of the devil," Ocelot said. "White Devil," Raiden said. He pointed to the President. "Now what's going on with this?"  
  
"We don't know," Liquid said. "Someone just took down several hundred billion dollars' worth of real estate."  
  
"I noticed," Raiden said. "You two know, of course, that Snake is here?"  
  
Liquid's eyebrows shot up, but Ocelot remained calm. "So you weren't going to tell me?" he said to Ocelot. "What happened to "cooperation" and "teamwork" to get to the bottom of this?"  
  
"I was the one who got your body out of that grave and a new arm for you," Ocelot said. "Do you know how much that cost us? Most of what the Israelis paid Vamp."  
  
"So? Israel has the biggest supply of liquid cash in the world at the moment. If we want some more, we'll get it."  
  
"Israel…" Raiden said thoughtfully. "Do you think they did this?"  
  
"It's a possibility," Liquid said. "I remember hearing that Destiny had some connections with them. He spent almost ten years in the Mossad before joining FOXHOUND…"  
  
"Destiny? That pretender? He's nothing."  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised if he's coming here."  
  
Liquid laughed. "Whatever. I wonder when the 'President' will be here."  
  
"He's flying over from London."  
  
"Commercial or private?"  
  
"Private."  
  
"Good. We need him here, now." Liquid stood. "With Snake here, it changes everything. Raiden, go take care of him. I expect results."  
  
Raiden smiled. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time." He pulled out his High Frequency Blade and checked it. "Weak-minded fool? I'll show him." He left the room. Liquid laughed at his back as he watched him go. "What a fool," he said. "And who knows? Maybe he'll kill Snake. Lowers the number of people we'll have to liquidate when this is over."  
  
Ocelot smiled. "Of course, boss," he said. "Now, about the attack on Chernoton. Is it the right thing to do with what happened right over our heads? I think we should hold off before they send a few battalions in here and blast us to hell and gone…"  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Seven miles above the Atlantic Ocean, the 'President' watched CNN in first- class as they covered the Empire State Building's destruction. So they actually did it, he thought. I didn't think the Israelis had the guts to do something like that.  
  
A flight attendant came up to him, and handed him a beer. "Do you know that you look exactly like President Sears?" she said. He looked at her for a moment before roaring with laughter. "I get that a lot," he said. "Thank you for the drink." She smiled at him and went back into the coach area.  
  
Sipping his beer, 'Sears' watched on the screen as commentators, now with nothing blowing up to show on the screen, began debating with old retired generals on CNN about what would happen next, how do you fight a campaign with most likely the European nations against you, as they had been during the earlier "War on Terror?" It had happened during the Bush Presidency, he'd done jack during his term besides pump up the military, and then resigned in 2003, tired of partisan politics, or so went the cover story. His handpicked successor, Sears, had continued to beef up the military, before he was forced to resign thanks to the Shadow Moses incident. Then Johnson had been killed on the Big Shell, and now Matthews had this. He'd heard rumors Bush was going to run again, tired of seeing how no one was able to get the damn job done on terrorism. Good luck, friend, 'Sears' thought. Terrorism was an essential part of the grip that the Patriots held over the country. It would never go away, unless the Patriots ceased to exist.  
  
Which, of course, was the entire reason 'Sears' was still breathing. He chuckled at the thought. The fight in Zanzibar Land… seeing the "lifeblood" as Raven called it trickle out of his body, thanks to the dozens of wounds he'd received from Snake… and then getting up, escaping the UN soldiers as they sifted through the rubble of the remains of the fortress nation… just like they did at Outer Heaven… swearing revenge on Solid Snake, FOXHOUND, and most importantly of all, the Patriots…  
  
The man called the "greatest warrior of the 20th century" laughed. It looked like his title was outdated. He'd have to become the greatest warrior of the 21st century as well.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Snake stood reloading his weapons and replacing old bandages with new ones as the elevator made its way down toward the Devil's Attic. [How ya feelin', Snake?] Otacon asked.  
  
"Fine," Snake said. "Why do you ask?"  
  
[Well, you did say FOXDIE was starting to work,] Otacon said. [We've known all along there was a vaccine to FOXDIE. Why didn't we ever go get it?]  
  
"Remember the security there was around Naomi after Shadow Moses?" Snake said. "Triple that, and you're about at maybe a tenth of what I would have to go through to get within a mile of that vaccine. Better just to live life until you die rather than worry about when you're going to die."  
  
[I suppose, but--]  
  
Snake didn't hear the rest of the sentence. Pain like nothing he'd ever felt before blossomed in his gut. He clutched at his stomach and fell to the ground. "Thanks a lot, Naomi," he muttered. The pain in his gut spread to his chest, and he said, "Otacon, if you can hear me… this might be the end."  
  
He blacked out for a while. When he woke, he could dimly hear [Snake? Snake!?] ringing in his ears. "What is it, Hal?" he said. "What's going on?"  
  
[Snake! You're alive!]  
  
"Barely, it seems," Snake said.  
  
[What happened?]  
  
"FOXDIE reminding me its still around, a bit more… forcefully than it ever has," Snake said. "Things didn't look good there for a minute."  
  
[Well, I got your radar working.]  
  
"Great," Snake said. "Does it cover the Devil's Attic?"  
  
[I finally hacked it out of the Pentagon. It covers everywhere.]  
  
"Nice job," Snake said, watching as the Soliton Radar popped up on his wristwatch (not like it appears in the corner of his vision out of mid-air, people. Go James Bond!) It showed him inside the elevator in its usual green lines and dots. "Brings back memories," Snake said.  
  
[That it does.]  
  
As the doors silently slid open, Snake ran out, and stopped in surprise. "You," he said.  
  
Raiden laughed. "Who better to put an end to the legend?" he said, drawing his katana and SOCOM. "Comon, Snake, we'll see who the 'weak-minded fool' is." He brought the SOCOM up and fired a shot.  
  
The roar of the gun got Snake's attention. He lunged to the side, firing from his own SOCOM as he fell. The bullet whizzed harmlessly past him, and Jack flicked the katana about so fast Snake could barely follow it as he deflected Snake's own bullets, sparks flying off the blade as they hit.  
  
"You've learned some things," Snake said.  
  
"Enough to kill you," Raiden said.  
  
"We'll see," Snake replied, before taking his FAMAS off his back and putting his SOCOM in its holster. As the two men stood there, facing off, Snake said, "we'll see."  
  
  
  
Snake vs. Jack in the next chapter! (Ya know, what we all WANTED Snake to do in the Big Shell). But does Snake win? And when do Destiny and the other FOXHOUNDs finally get into it? Find out in Chapter Eight: Duel! 


	9. Duel...

NOTE: I don't use italics in my fics because it's a bitch to code them right for ff.net. So don't even think I don't know how to use them. Just don't. AUTHOR'S NOTE/RANT OVER. ALL CLEAR.  
  
Chapter Eight: Duel…  
  
  
  
Snake slowly checked the clip on his FAMAS, never taking his eyes off Raiden as he did so. "Don't make me do this, kid," he said. "What happened with a new life?" he asked. "Rose?"  
  
There was a flicker of… something… in Raiden's eyes, but it disappeared as soon as it had risen, replaced by cold flame. "All behind me," he said. "They made me better, Snake. Stronger. Faster. Smarter."  
  
"So now you're at the level of an average human being?" Snake retorted. "I don't know who 'they' are, but I have a pretty good idea. "You've been brainwashed, kid. I'll help you. Even if it takes beating their programming out of your thick skull."  
  
Raiden laughed. "I think you'll be surprised, Snake," he said. "And not pleasantly, I assure you."  
  
"We'll see," Snake said. "Let's go. That's enough preliminaries."  
  
"As you wish," Raiden said. "Have at you, Snake!"  
  
Snake's eyes widened. "You little bastard," he hissed. "You don't know what you just did." Dropping his FAMAS, Snake rushed Raiden. The former FOXHOUND smiled. "This is going to be too easy," he said, bringing his katana around in a devastating slash aimed at Snake's neck. Snake dodged under the high- frequency blade and delivered a hard right to Raiden's gut. He knocked the SOCOM out of Raiden's left hand and jarred the katana out of his right with a swift elbow.  
  
Raiden stumbled back, wheezing and clutching his gut. "You still don't have it, kid," Snake said. He brought his left foot around in a kick that smashed into Raiden's breastbone and slammed him into a nearby column. Raiden got up, holding onto the pillar for support. Rubbing his chest, he ducked just in time to avoid Snake's fist, aimed for his nose.  
  
  
  
Raiden's left leg lashed out in an attempt to trip Snake up, but the greatest soldier in the world saw his legs tensing for a strike and leapt back. He landed beside his FAMAS, and Raiden knew it was over. "Come on, then," he said. "Finish it."  
  
Snake glanced at the FAMAS before kicking it away. "Get up," he said. "We aren't finished yet."  
  
Raiden rose and wiped blood trickling from a gash in his forehead off. A roar of rage escaped from his lips, and he rushed Snake, madly throwing kicks and punches at him.  
  
Snake ignored most, dodged some, and deflected the rest with his arms or legs. But one steel-tipped kick got through and connected with his already aching chest. The effect was immediate. Snake fell back, blood gushing up his throat before he coughed it out, a red mist forming a barrier between the two warriors.  
  
Raiden smirked. "Feeling your age, eh, Snake?" He turned. "I'll be seeing you soon." He turned to leave.  
  
"A lot to learn, kid," Snake said between coughs. He grabbed the FAMAS off the ground and fired a three-round burst. Riaden had picked up his katana and whirled, deflecting two of the bullets with his katana, before trying to dodge the third. He didn't move fast enough. The bullet slammed into his left shoulder. Blood spurted as he roared in pain, grabbing his shoulder. "Damn you, Snake!" he yelled, and then he turned a corner and was gone.  
  
Snake knelt, his breathing labored. He quickly ate a ration and inspected his chest. A dark, purple bruise about the size of a fist was forming there. He touched it and pulled his hand back as pain blossomed.  
  
[Snake? You alright?] Otacon's voice sounded tinny and far away on the Codec.  
  
"Yeah," Snake said. "I don't feel too good, though."  
  
[Why? What happened?]  
  
"Just had a tussle with the White Devil." Snake got up and put the top of his Sneaking Suit back on, and started walking down the corridor Raiden had retreated through, his FAMAS ready.  
  
[Really? Who won?]  
  
"I beat him up a little," Snake said, "but he smashed me in the chest. My chest hasn't been feeling too good lately."  
  
[Yeah.]  
  
"What have you found out about the origins of 'la-li-lu-le-lo?'"  
  
[I've checked every Native American tribe in the continental U.S. I'm now checking tribes of Central and South America, Canada, Hawaii, and Alaska. Eventually we'll probably end up checking every official language in the world and many of the unofficial ones.]  
  
"Alright," Snake said. "What's going on topside?"  
  
[Manhattan Island and all the airspace in the United States has been locked down, just like in 2001 and like during the "Big Shell Incident". You can get out, but not in. President Matthews has been in conference with the Chinese ambassador for the past thirty minutes.]  
  
"Chinese ambassador? I wonder what's going on there," Snake said. [Who knows,] Otacon said. [It could be about almost anything.]  
  
"Whatever, Snake said, passing by empty laboratories on each side of the hall. Inside one of the rooms, a security camera caught Snake's image as he passed by. Inside the control room, Liquid cursed and slammed a hand down onto the console. "Raiden didn't get the job done," he said. He turned to the sniper. "Take care of it, Osprey," he said. "Don't even think of coming back if you fail."  
  
"I got it," Osprey said, picking up his PSG1 as he left the room. "Solid Snake's head is mine."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Destiny's world was engulfed in dust and smoke as the 'copters entered the rapidly expanding cloud that engulfed most of Manhattan. He could dimly see the Chrysler Building, now the tallest structure in the city, through the cloud. Muted red glows were massive fires raging in the rubble. Wind whistling around the 'copters muted out the moans of the wounded and dying, but they still rose like a foul wind into the air, caressing Destiny's ears with their black embrace before rising higher and eventually disappearing altogether into the cacophony of sirens and the screams of the new F-34 Shark fighter jets as they patrolled the empty skies over Manhattan.  
  
"Your original ingress point is probably covered in rubble," the pilot yelled, his voice ringing in Destiny's ears. "We'll set you down in front of a subway station that has a station inside Level One of the subbasement of the… ESB Site. Head south on the tracks to get there. Get to Level Two and take the freight elevator to the Devil's Attic. You know what to do once you're in."  
  
The 'copters stopped and hovered, smoke and dust billowing out away from them. Drop lines were thrown off the sides, and the three FOXHOUND members dropped to the ground in moments and touched down on the streets.  
  
It was like no street Destiny had been on before. Chunks of stone—and people—were everywhere, and he couldn't see anything. The heat was almost unbearable. Tank said, "let's find that subway station and get out of this hellhole."  
  
"Agreed," Vulture said. "The subway is about twenty meters to the right." They made their way through the wreckage until Tank almost broke his leg falling down the steps to the subway. "I found the station, boss," he said, cursing.  
  
"Nice one," Destiny said. Moving down the stairs, he noticed the dust beginning to thin out until he could see pretty well.  
  
The station was deserted, as he expected it would be. "Watch for the third rail," he said. "It's the yellow one."  
  
"…Unpleasant things happen if you step on one and its electrified," Vulture finished. "We don't know if the electricity is on down here, so be careful."  
  
They moved quickly, leaving the station behind as the destruction became more evident. The electricity went out about a hundred meters past the station. "NVGs on," Destiny said, flicking on his goggles. The tunnel swam into focus after a moment, in varying shades of green.  
  
Ten minutes later they were at the Level One station, which was mostly intact, but also deserted. "Nice," Destiny said, moving through the dead bodies of the massacre victims. "Haven't seen a full-blown massacre in a while."  
  
"Let's kill the bastards slowly," Vulture said, the outrage clear in her voice, her eyes lit with fire. "They deserve it."  
  
"That they do," Destiny said. "Let's find a way down to Level Two." Passing by the lavatory, he pointed to the bullet holes in the wall. "Someone else was here," he said. "An intruder."  
  
"Interesting," Tank said. "Snake?"  
  
"Maybe," Destiny said. "Let's move on."  
  
[Destiny?]  
  
The voice sounded familiar as it came in, strong and vibrant, through the Codec. "Sphere?" Destiny asked.  
  
[Correct.]  
  
"What is it?"  
  
[Are you in?]  
  
"You are monitoring us through nanomachines," Destiny said.  
  
[Right. Get down to the Devil's Attic.]  
  
"We're on our way. Is Washington getting a little antsy?"  
  
[Maybe.]  
  
"If you'd get off the line, maybe we'd start moving."  
  
Sphere sounded sheepish. [Alright, alright. Sorry. There's a storage room ahead of you. On the other side is a stairwell that leads to Level Two.]  
  
"Okay. Over and out, Sphere."  
  
Heading over to the storage room, Destiny stopped as the massive bloodstain left by Vamp appeared on the NVGs. "What happened here?" he wondered aloud.  
  
"Snake and Vamp fought here."  
  
The voice was cold, and had a slight mechanical buzz to it. Destiny whirled to find a katana pressed against his throat. The owner of the katana was a Cyborg Ninja. He heard Vulture and Tank train their weapons on the Ninja. "Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"I'm like you… I have no name."  
  
"Cut the crap," Destiny said. "This isn't Shadow Moses."  
  
"Are you… sure of that?"  
  
Destiny was getting mad. "What is that he supposed to mean?" he spit out.  
  
"You'll find out… soon enough."  
  
And then the Ninja was gone, disappearing in an instant. "Follow him!" Destiny yelled. Vulture's PSG1-A moved so fast it was a blur, and the room erupted in sparks as the Ninja deflected her shot with his katana. And then he truly did disappear; Vulture lowered her rifle. "He's gone, sir," she said. Her head dropped to her chin. "I missed."  
  
"It's alright," Destiny said. The last thing he needed was Vulture getting depressed. "Comon," he said. "Let's go."  
  
[Wow.]  
  
"What is it, Sphere?" Destiny yelled, exasperated.  
  
[That was like something out of one my Japanese animes…]  
  
"Jesus H. Christ!" Tank exploded. "How old are you, Sphere?"  
  
There was a long pause. [19… and a half.]  
  
Destiny sighed. "Wonderful," he said. "Sphere, what was with that Ninja? Who is he? And why does this keep coming back to Shadow Moses? Everything around here seems to be related to that damned snafu!"  
  
[Like the Ninja said, you'll find out soon enough—I mean, we'll find out soon enough… Dammit, I have to go. Call you later.]  
  
"Great, "Tank said. "Just great. What does he mean by that? And what is going on around here?"  
  
"I don't know," Destiny said, "but the Israelis are looking better and better, what they did to Manhattan regardless." Tank and Vulture nodded. Hefting his M4, Destiny said, "let's go."  
  
Heading down the stairwell, Tank thought he saw the Ninja at the stairwell/lounge at the bottom. He looked again, and the Ninja was gone. Eyes are playing tricks on me, he thought, and took off the goggles when he realized the lights were working down there.  
  
As he walked through the landing, Tank was mildly surprised to see a katana swinging toward his throat, and the odd digging sensation that came when it connected with his throat. As he fell, he could dimly hear Destiny and Vulture yelling, and he felt light-headed, as if he was floating away. Yes, a most curious sensation indeed.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
In Washington, James Matthews warmly welcomed the Chinese ambassador into the now-empty Oval Office. "Welcome, Ambassador Hin," he said. "As you know, the United States are interested in purchasing your latest Metal Gear," he said. "We are offering $25 million."  
  
"No."  
  
The response was simple and expected, but hearing it still shocked Matthews. "We are prepared to use force," he said. "You must know what would happen to your country."  
  
"You would lose Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, and Oakland. You must know that."  
  
"The middle of Manhattan Island is a smoking crater," Matthews said. I'd gladly put those cities to the sword to save the rest of it." Matthews smiled. "China will never recover. "Your People's Republic will be blasted off the face of the Earth. The proletariat will be blasted off the face of the earth."  
  
Hin bristled, then looked like he was full of despair. "You're bluffing," he said. "You have to be."  
  
"I am not," Matthews said. "Are you willing to find out?"  
  
He hoped he wasn't sweating. Hin sure was. Would he call the bluff? Would he subject the world to the flame?  
  
He couldn't.  
  
Would he? 


	10. ...and Deal

NOTE: This is a chapter put in to tie up one of those little loose ends, the brewing Chinese/American war. Will the U.S. destroy China? Will the West Coast be turned into radioactive slag?  
  
  
  
Chapter Nine: …and Deal  
  
  
  
Destiny ran over to Tank's falling body, blood spurting from his throat. "Tank!" he yelled. He knelt beside his comrade, holding his head. Turning he Vulture, he yelled, "get going! Finish the mission!" After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and left, her footfalls fading in the distance.  
  
Tank's blood soaking Destiny's Sneaking Suit. "Sorry, bud," he said, standing and aiming the M4 at Tank's head. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. When he opened them, Tank's face was gone, pulverized by the armor-piercing rounds. "I'll kill you, you tin-plated sonofabitch!" he yelled into the silsnce.  
  
"But why? I am neither enemy nor friend. I have come back from a world where such things do not matter."  
  
"Shut up! This isn't Shadow Moses!" Destiny roared, spraying the lounge with M4 fire. Stuffing blew out of the couches, the glass of the pop machine shattered, and chips of plaster flew everywhere as they were blasted out of the wall. Destiny stopped, breathing heavily.  
  
"We will speak again soon. Farewell!"  
  
Although he couldn't see it, he sensed that the Ninja was gone. "Damn you," he whispered, and picked up his radio. "Vulture, I'm coming now. Wait at the elevator."  
  
"Got it, boss," Vulture said. Destiny headed for the elevator, leaving the body of his friend behind.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
President Matthews watched as Ambassador Hin paced around the Oval Office. Checking his watch, Matthews that five hours had passed since Ocelot had made his nationwide, most likely worldwide, broadcast. It had been the worst five hours of Matthews' life. The death estimates in New York had reached 70,000 and were showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, and over 25 million would die at least if the West Coast were nuked.  
  
Ambassador Hin sighed and stopped pacing. "Alright," he said at last. "We will sell you our Metal Gear REX."  
  
"REX?" Matthews asked. "Don't you have anything else?"  
  
"No," Hin said. "As you yourself pointed out, we are nowhere near being as advanced as you are."  
  
"Good," Matthews said, in regard to both points of Hin's statement. "Now, 25 million, correct?"  
  
"No."  
  
That word again. So simple, yet so infuriating. "What, then!?" Matthews roared.  
  
Hin smiled. "My government wants 30 billion dollars, along with the plans for your newest radar."  
  
"What?!" Matthews feigned shock, but he was ready to give the Chinese that much, and more. The Patriots could easily handle the money, and they would also turn out some new radar ten times more advanced than whatever he gave the Chinese. "The government of the Unites States of America is pleased to accept your counterproposal," he said. "We need REX at JFK International Airport by 7 p.m. this evening."  
  
Hin nodded. "The cargo plane carrying REX is already over your 'Midwest.' Please give it clearance to enter the restricted airspace. It will arrive in two hours. Good day." He rose and left the room.  
  
As he stared at Hin's retreating back, Matthews felt like he was being played. And he knew by whom.  
  
Whom else could the answer be?  
  
The Patriots. 


	11. Interlude

Interlude: Resurrection  
  
  
  
Rain fell onto Arlington National Cemetery in sheets, curtains of rain muddying ground dug up too many times over the years, until it seemed the bodies of the dead were trying to dig up through the dirt sealing them into their graves to exact revenge on their mortal enemies.  
  
Robert E. Lee's Arlington mansion towered over the grounds, a grumpy old structure that seemed to disapprove of what had been to its ground by conquering Yankees over a hundred fifty years ago. The cemetery was mostly empty; a few people wandered through the rows of tombstones, placing soaked flowers at the graves of friends and family members, or someone they'd seen in the paper or on TV.  
  
One man strode through the Cemetery with a purpose; his Russian features and the clearly viewable six-shooter he wore—was that really one of the legendary Colt Single Action Armies? They wondered—drew more than his fair share of odd looks. The cold war might have ended almost twenty years ago, but a general distrust of Russians still permeated American society, especially after the release of In the Darkness of Shadow Moses: The Unofficial Truth, by Nastasha Romanenko, almost four years before. It was still on the New York Times Bestseller list; it had debuted at No. 1 and stayed there for a record 134 weeks, and now still was riding high at No. 9, boosted by international sales over the years.  
  
The man stopped in front of a grave in one of the dark corners of the cemetery, one rarely seen by visitors. The man knew that soldiers buried here had been killed in "black ops," or missions the U.S. government did not officially recognize when one of them blew up in its face. He knelt before one grave, the stone marker implanted on the ground reading: "Killed in terrorist take-over of Shadow Moses Island, 2004." Several others just like it were nearby.  
  
The man stood. "Liquid," he said. "Mantis. Raven. Wolf. You didn't have to die."  
  
The man's right arm twitched, and he fell to his knees as pain so immense it filled his vision with a bright white light filled his body. "Dammit, Liquid," he yelled, clutching the arm, "get back where you belong! We'll save you as soon as we can!" The arm began to spasm, and the man felt light- headed, as if he were floating away. "Get out of my mind!" he roared. If anyone was nearby, the crashing peals of thunder and driving rain concealed him well enough.  
  
The spasms began to stop, and the man stood. "Stay out of my head," he muttered. "If you know what's good for you." The arm twitched again, and the sound of laughing filled his head. "I'm warning you, Liquid," he said. "There are plenty of other arms out there I can get. You're lucky I arranged to have your body specially preserved, like I did Mantis' and that fool Gray Fox."  
  
The arm settled down. The man knew how odd he looked, with his brown trench coat, decidedly Old West outfit, and the Colt Single Action Armies he had in holsters all over him. It was getting harder and harder to smuggle them into places like airports and government buildings nowadays, not that he didn't have the ultimate security clearance…  
  
The taxi ride to the Pentagon wasn't unpleasant, although the capital looked downright glum in the storm. Not to mention the fact that the man had felt the urge to pull out one of his six-shooters and blow the taxi driver's head off several times during the ride. "So you work for the military?" the driver said. At the man's nod, he went on, "you? In what? The Wild West Department?"  
  
"I'm not at liberty to speak about it," the man said, memorizing the driver's name, car number and cab company. The rest of the ride went on in stony silence until they pulled up to Pentagon. "Here we are," the driver said, as the man paid him. "Have a good day at… whatever it is that you do."  
  
"I'm sure that I will," the man said, and he got out of the car and walked purposefully through the downpour into the Pentagon. The cab driver blinked his eyes and rubbed them as he watched the man go; it appeared that none of the rain was hitting him.  
  
A week later, the driver was dead, victim of a random mugging gone wrong.  
  
Never let it be said that Revolver Ocelot is unlike an elephant in regards to memory.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Ocelot presented his ID to the guard at the door and quickly entered the Pentagon before the man could even acknowledge his presence. After the encounter with the idiotic cab driver, he really didn't have any more patience for useless lackeys. If he didn't get some sleep, he was definitely going to blow someone's head off.  
  
Moving quickly below the Pentagon, to the secret warrens where the real decisions were made concerning the future of the country. Let them fly a hundred planes into this place, Ocelot thought. They'll never get within a hundred feet of the important rooms. He'd been in one of those rooms on September 11th. It had been a most annoying day; he'd gotten barely any work done at all. He'd also been sent off to "negotiate" deals with the major terrorist groups to please stop, you're delaying some really important work in Washington. And they wondered why they never found bin Laden or Mullah Omar, Ocelot thought with a smile. I'd taken care of them weeks before the first fighter rolled off the carrier deck.  
  
Displaying his ID again, Ocelot made his way into one of the "secret" areas, the entrance to which was of all things, one of the many officers' lavatories. Putting a guard in a restroom, Ocelot thought. What will they come up with next...  
  
Heading down a flight of stairs, Ocelot nodded to several of the men passing him on their way up. Richardson, Jackson, that egotistical idiot Ames… at least Jackson knew his place. His Dead Cell idea was intriguing. That was better than the ideas Ames was coming up with. Honestly, a massive sea-based fortress he called "Arsenal Gear?" What was he smoking when he'd thought that one up? What was worse was that some of the higher-ups, the men who made the real decisions, loved it. He'd even heard the Wisemen's Committee had liked the idea… something like that would never have even gotten off the ground in the Spetznaz, Ocelot thought. Nothing is ever the same…  
  
"Revolver," Ames said, stopping on the stairs and basically holding everyone up. I'd expect him to do something like that, Ocelot thought, sighing and letting one hand stray towards one of his six shooters before saying, "what is it, Major Ames?"  
  
Jackson and Richardson looked at him like he was insane. You didn't talk to Richard Ames if you wanted to, you talked to Richard Ames if you had to. "Ocelot, I was thinking that using Metal Gears as part of the defense system for Arsenal would be a great idea, but obviously the TX-55 REX model would not do well in an aquatic environment. The Marines are planning to create an amphibious Metal Gear, SHARK or RAY or something like that. Why don't you come to my office later and we can discuss it?"  
  
Ocelot and the others looked at him in faint horror. The stairwell wasn't secure. It was the only part of the underground warrens that wasn't. You didn't talk there. "It sounds… fascinating," Ocelot managed to say. I'll stop by later today or tomorrow at the latest," he said. Ames grinned. "Excellent," he said. "I'll see you later." He made his way up to the top of the steps and disappeared into the lav. "What an idiot," Jackson breathed as soon as he was gone.  
  
"I agree, but also, don't talk here either and be as idiotic as he is," Ocelot said. "I have a meeting with the President. I'll talk to you later." Jackson and Richardson nodded and left, finally letting Ocelot get down the steps. Americans, he thought. They're all the same. It's all talk talk talk and no caring whatsoever about where they are talking and whom they are talking to, as long as they can open their mouths. How the hell did we lose the Cold War?  
  
Reaching the end of the stairs, Ocelot took a left, heading down a dimly lit corridor. On either side were open rooms filled with rows of computers, all occupied by technicians who did nothing but sat twelve hours a day and gave orders, keeping the military at some modicum of efficiency. Ocelot wondered what they were getting paid to ruin their lives sitting in front of a monitor all day.  
  
Turning another corner, Ocelot saw that President Sears was waiting for him. As the President saw him, he rose and started briskly walking towards Ocelot, and the former Spetznaz could see he was furious. "What happened out there, Ocelot?" he hissed. "I'm going to have to resign over this, and you know what happened to Nixon!"  
  
"Richard Nixon lived a full life after the la-li-lu-le-lo forced him to resign," Ocelot replied. "The same is not true for you. You publicly embarrassed them. My office. Now, Mr. President. You don't have much time." He brushed past Sears and went into his office.  
  
Sears followed him, fuming. "What the hell happened out there, Ivan?" he yelled once the door was closed. "Everything went fine until Ames let Romanenko escape! The previews of that book have damned me in the eyes of the Patriots! How did it happen, Ocelot?"  
  
"Calm down, Solidus," Ocelot snapped, his voice like a cold wind as it escaped his lips. "Don't worry. We'll get you underground. But before you go… I want you to start reviving Liquid's remains in his grave." The arm twitched. "As you can see, he's getting more restless. Those idiots in Laon had no idea what they were doing."  
  
"I wouldn't say that," Solidus said. "We already have a program in place for Mantis and Gray Fox. If you want to include Liquid… and you want him to be kept in his grave?"  
  
"Snake is still out there… if he comes looking, I want him to find what he's looking for," Ocelot said. He extended his arm. "Can you set the program in motion before you're forced to resign?"  
  
Solidus sighed. "Of course I can," he said. "It'll be done by the evening." He rose and shook Ocelot's hand. "What do you think of Ames' Arsenal Gear idea?" he asked. "I think it's ridiculous," Ocelot said. "But the Wisemen's Committee likes it."  
  
"Not only likes it, they endorsed it an hour ago," Solidus said. "If Ames doesn't know yet… how the hell did he get involved with this anyway? He's too stupid to be a Patriot."  
  
"I don't know," Ocelot said. "I have business to attend to," he said, a not- so-subtle invitation to leave.  
  
Solidus, though, got the hint. "I have business of my own to attend to, as well," he said, turning to leave. He said, "don't let me down, Ocelot, or I'll take care of you before they take care of me."  
  
"I understand, Mr. President," Ocelot said; the door was open. "Farewell."  
  
As soon as Solidus was gone, a voice rang in Ocelot's ear. [We heard it all.]  
  
"I know you did," he said calmly. "Get Liquid's body exhumed and a replacement put in, if you don't mind."  
  
[Of course.]  
  
"What about Solidus? Should I let him escape?"  
  
[Yes.]  
  
Ocelot sighed. "Very well. What about this Arsenal Gear?"  
  
[Let it be built. It will be gone before we act thanks to the Patriots anyway.]  
  
"Alright. Over and out, Boss."  
  
[Over and out.]  
  
Ocelot stood and left. As he walked through the mall, he wondered where Saladin would choose for Outer Heaven. It would be completed soon. So soon. 


	12. La-li-lu-le-lo

Chapter Ten: La-li-lu-le-lo  
  
  
  
As he moved through the Devil's Attic, Snake thought his chest was definitely feeling better. The tightness was gone already, and moving around was definitely getting easier. "Otacon," he said, "What about the Patriots? I'm getting pretty deep into the Devil's Attic here."  
  
[I'm checking it out now,] Otacon said. [This is odd, I've checked every Native American language we know of, and most of the foreign ones, official and unofficial…]  
  
"Check sub-dialects of the Algonquin and Iroquois," Snake said. "Check languages used by alliances of two or more tribes. Check everything. Have you translated it into the language the League of Five Nations used for official meetings?"  
  
[Hey, that's something I haven't tried yet,] Otacon said, sounding surprised. [You have a pretty good mind, Snake.] The sound of rapidly clacking keys came over the Codec. [La-li-lu-le-lo… La-li-lu-le-lo…] There was silence, and then Otacon yelled, [you found it, Snake! "La-li-lu-le- lo," in the official language of the League of Five Nations, means "Wisemen."]  
  
"That sure helps a lot… see what "Wiseman" and "Wisemen" mean in that language," Snake said. "I'm sure its important."  
  
Turning a corner, Snake stopped at the sight before him. The long hallway was filled with the dead bodies of Genome Soldiers, at least a dozen of them. Blood was spattered everywhere, and bullet marks scored the walls. Most of the men had been stabbed in the chest or eviscerated with some type of blade…  
  
"What the hell," Snake muttered. "Otacon, you getting this?"  
  
[Yes.] Otacon's voice sounded dull and monotone.  
  
"Analyze the cuts on these men and try to match them with the Ninja's katana or Raiden's," Snake said. "Someone is sending us a message." He knelt down in front of one of the guards. "This one's not quite dead, yet." The gash in the man's chest was not as deep or long as the others'. "What happened here?" Snake asked.  
  
"Nin… ja…" the man managed to say. "Man… tis…"  
  
Mantis!? He's been dead for five years!" Snake said. "It can't be him." He looked the guard in the eye. "Who was it?"  
  
"I saw… his… face…" the guard fell over on his side and died. "Otacon?" Snake said.  
  
[What was that?]  
  
"That guard… he said the Ninja is Psycho Mantis."  
  
[But… you saw him die, with Meryl!]  
  
"I know. But I also saw Liquid and Gray Fox die before my eyes. You were there for Liquid. And both of them came back."  
  
[Gray Fox…]  
  
Snake sighed. "What now, Hal? Are you going to say Frank is sitting right next to you?"  
  
[Well… I had the bodies of the FOXHOUND squad from Shadow Moses exhumed for DNA testing.] Otacon's voice had some of its familiar frantic tone back. [Snake, Fox's body was missing! And the DNA patterns on Liquid and Mantis didn't match the ones we confirmed, ourselves, from the blood samples you collected on Shadow Moses! There were subtle changes in the DNA strands, Snake… changes that you commonly see in cloning.]  
  
"Cloning…" Snake scowled. "Is the Liquid here a clone?"  
  
[No, the one in the grave was. The original body is apparently inside the Devil's Attic with you, with Liquid inside.]  
  
"What about Ocelot's arm?"  
  
[I've analyzed his two broadcasts. Ocelot has a new right forearm and hand. We must assume Liquid's old body is whole again.]  
  
"Great," Snake said. "That's about the last thing I need. What about Frank?"  
  
[I can't find any mention of him anywhere. Its likely the government took his body to test it somewhere, to try to find out how Dr. Clark revived him and recovered his memory. All notes and information were lost when Gray Fox destroyed the laboratory they revived him in and killed Clark.]  
  
"Can you think of anywhere they might be doing this research?"  
  
[Hmm… lets start with every Army, Naval, Air Force, and Marine Base around the world, then all the private and government-run labs across the world, and you're maybe around halfway through the places they could be keeping him. There's no way we could find him.]  
  
"Great." Snake hung his head. "We'll put him to rest some day."  
  
[Sure.]  
  
"Hey! Who're you!"  
  
Snake whirled to see a squad of guards entering the corridor. "Look at all this," one of them said. "He killed all these guys! Get him!" Automatic weapons fire filled the corridor. Snake lunged into a laboratory, slamming a fresh clip into his FAMAS as he did so. The bullets from the five five sixers blasted through the windows of the lab, eradicating test tubes, beakers and syringes as they did so. Snake leaned through the open door, and expended his clip in about two seconds on full auto.  
  
Ducking back into the lab, Snake reloaded and counted to three before leaning back out and resuming fire. He caught the terrorists as they were moving up the corridor. One man fell, his kneecaps blasted out from under him. Another one took a dozen bullets in the gut, and was slammed into the wall. The last one took a bullet in the head, chest, and stomach, respectively. That man fell silently. Snake quickly finished off the two others and moved past them into a large storage area. Geez, this place is all storage areas, he thought.  
  
Lying on top of a support beam forty feet above the room, Osprey trained his PSG1 on Snake. He checked his clip, made sure all he had to do was pull the trigger. He lined Snake up in his sights and got ready to shoot…  
  
Across the room on another beam, Vulture also watched, her PSG1-A trained on the middle of Osprey's forehead.  
  
She could take him out anytime. She began to pull the trigger…  
  
Movement registered in the peripheral vision of her scope. She stopped. What the--? She thought. Who's over there?  
  
Vulture gasped as the Cyborg Ninja appeared beside Osprey, his katana ready for a strike. She shifted her rifle, and fired three quick shots. I'll get that bastard if it's the last thing I do, she thought. As her bullets sped toward the Ninja, it turned, and the red "eye" in the middle of its forehead flared. The exoskeleton was the same as in Shadow Moses, Vulture realized. The "eye" seemed to be boring into her soul… she fired three more shots, wild, unaimed.  
  
It moved so fast that Vulture barely had time to blink before the Ninja had deflected all three of her aimed bullets. The unaimed ones flew harmlessly past him, to crash into the far wall. Osprey scrambled to his feet while Snake took cover in the shadows. "What are you?" Osprey yelled. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm like you… I have no name."  
  
That's what he told Destiny, Vulture remembered, and she realized that Osprey was going to die. "Who are you with?" Osprey yelled.  
  
"I am neither enemy nor friend. I have come back from a world where such words are meaningless."  
  
"That's a load of—I've read the Shadow Moses casefile! You're dead! Why are you here? Revenge?"  
  
"It is nothing so trivial as revenge."  
  
"Shut up! I'll kill you!"  
  
Osprey brought his PSG1 around and fired a wild shot. The Ninja ignored it, and knocked Osprey out with one punch to the jaw. The sniper fell, his rifle clattering on the floor as his body hit the ground with a sickening crunch.  
  
Vulture watched as Snake ran out into the light to grab the PSG1 and some ammo. So now he's got a PSG1, she thought. The Ninja leapt into the air and performed a perfect flip before landing gracefully on the cold concrete floor, beside Osprey's lifeless body.  
  
"Snake."  
  
The former FOXHOUND commando came into the light, positioning himself so he could see the Ninja and herself, Vulture noticed. "That's my name," he said. "What do you want."  
  
"A fight…"  
  
"…to the death?" Snake shook his head. "Done that before. You're not Gray Fox."  
  
"We never got to finish our battle on Shadow Moses, Snake. Fate intervened."  
  
"You're not Frank Yaeger." Snake's voice was firm, but Vulture could see that was resolve was faltering. "You're not my friend."  
  
"Those words are meaningless to me. It will be a fight to the death."  
  
Snake sighed. "If you wish," he said, laying his weapons down. "Let's go."  
  
"Excellent." The Ninja's katana had disappeared. "Hand to hand. It is the basis of all combat. Only a fool—"  
  
"—trusts his life to a weapon," Snake said. "You like repeating things that happened on Shadow Moses. You know what happened there, to Frank."  
  
The Ninja paused. "Only the ending will be different," it said at last. "Now, let's fight!" 


	13. Red Shift

Chapter Eleven: Red Shift  
  
  
  
Snake and the Ninja warily circled one another, fists up, legs sweeping into fighting stances. Whenever one would dart forward, the other would take a step or two back. Occasionally both would lunge towards the other, bringing them within a few feet of one another. IIts like a prizefight/I, Vulture thought. There was something almost… mystical about the two warriors. ILike one of Sphere's animes/I. The thought made Vulture chuckle.  
  
The Ninja brought its leg up in a kick that flashed by a ducking Snake and crashed into a wooden crate, sending shattered chips of wood raining down on the two combatants. As it brought the leg back down, Snake took advantage of an opening to land a hard punch to its gut.  
  
A sound that might have been a mild grunt of pain emanated from its helmet, and the red "eye" flared. The Ninja took a breathtaking leap that brought it fully thirty feet in the air, and it landed almost twenty feet from Snake. It had all happened in barely a second. IThey move so fast!/I  
  
A blue spark leapt out of a crack in the Ninja's armor and arced out into the air a few centimeters before returning to another spot on its armor. "I felt that, Snake," the Ninja said. Snake snarled. "Shut up and get back here," he said.  
  
The red eye flared even brighter, momentarily blinding Vulture as she watched through her scope. Snake threw up a hand to block the glare, and let out a cry of pain as the Ninja, moving with blinding speed, smashed a steel-tipped—or was it something more than steel?—into his gut, just below the massive bruise Raiden had inflicted.  
  
IGuess it'll be expanding into new locales,/I Snake thought grimly. He shunted aside the explosions of pain that seemed to be tearing his chest apart and blocked a chop that probably would have taken off his head, then retaliated with a blow that dented the side of the Ninja's helmet with its ferocity.  
  
Falling back, the Ninja let out a curse in a voice Snake recognized. IVery un-Ninja-like to be swearing,/I Snake thought. IBut that voice… I know that voice…/I  
  
The Ninja let out an inhuman scream before charging at Snake, unleashing a barrage of blows that steadily forced the commando back, unable to mount an offensive of his own. A shot to the jaw whipped Snake's head around, leaving him out of position. The legendary warrior stumbled back into a wall, totally defenseless. The Ninja cocked back a fist, readying itself for the killing blow—  
  
A rifle cracked.  
  
The Ninja leapt back, a bullet tearing through the air it had just occupied. "Are you sure this is right?" Vulture said into her Codec. [Correct. Sphere says that Snake is to live, no matter what. He can't die. Sphere was Ivery/I vehement about it,] Destiny said.  
  
"A contingency plan?"  
  
[I don't know. Possibly.]  
  
The Ninja stared up at Vulture's position. "You'll pay for that, sniper. I once knew a woman assassin who would put Ishame/I to you, little girl."  
  
Snake stiffened. ISo it is him,/I he thought. II watched him die, but here is. This is getting to be an annoying trend./I  
  
"Psycho Mantis!"  
  
The Ninja turned. "I'm glad you recognize me, Solid Snake," he said. Mantis appeared to be flexing his arms, and the Ninja suit disappeared, replaced by the gas mask and almost Gothic suit he'd worn on Shadow Moses.  
  
"It keeps coming back to Shadow Moses," Mantis said. "And it will keep coming back to that accursed pile of rock until you die, Solid Snake!"  
  
"I Iwatched/I you die," Snake said. "How'd they revive you?"  
  
"Much the same way they revived your Frank Jaeger, I suspect," Mantis said. "You know that some cells, including brain cells, can stay alive for hours, even a day or two in some cases, after "brain death." As long as just one live brain cell is still inside a body when our dear government gets their paws on it, they can enact a full revival, including memory retrieval."  
  
"Memory retrieval? How?"  
  
Mantis gave Snake an annoyed look. "How, exactly, should I know? Do I look like the late, much-lamented Dr. Clark? Or your own friend, Naomi Hunter? I may be a genius, Snake, but I don't know anything about genetics."  
  
Snake snorted. "She's no friend of mine."  
  
Mantis looked amused. "Really." He shook his head. "Whatever. We do have a fight to be getting back to, don't we?"  
  
"I suppose we do," Snake said, slowly taking his FAMAS off his back.  
  
"That accursed instrument of war." Mantis tossed his head back. "No matter. I will show you my psychic power!"  
  
"Heard that before," Snake muttered, unleashing the clip at the psychic master. The bullets simply—missed, just as they had around Fortune. IBefore Ocelot killed her./I  
  
[Snake! Why don't you try changing the controller port!]  
  
"This isn't a game, Otacon."  
  
[Well…]  
  
"Never mind, I don't have time for this," Snake said, ducking behind a crate, only to leap for the ground when the crate exploded, thanks to one of Mantis' psi-balls. IYou'd think he'd forgotten how to make those,/I Snake thought.  
  
"Come on out, Snake!" Mantis was gloating now. "Why don't you and your little sniper friend show yourselves? Could it be that you're afraid of Psycho Mantis? Could it be that you know what he will do to you? Could it be that—"  
  
Mantis let out a groan as one of Vulture's bullets cut into his side. "You talk too much," she said, calmly reloading. Mantis fell to the ground, landing on one knee, and struggled to rise to his feet. Inspecting the rapidly expanding pool of red on his torso, he seemed puzzled by it, before waving his hand and muttering something. The red disappeared, and a moment later a bullet fell to the ground.  
  
"IThat's/I a new one," Snake muttered. "Otacon, did you say something about controller ports?"  
  
[I didn't mean like in a video game, Snake… I meant that you can use your Codec to weaken Mantis' psychic powers.]  
  
"That's also a new one," Snake said. "How?"  
  
[I saw it tested last year. I don't know how it works, but it does.]  
  
"Tested? Where?"  
  
[On Arsenal. When Ocelot shut off Fortune's electromagnetic defense shield, her own psychic powers were boosted greatly. I got readings from your nanomachines. And while we were talking, on the Codec, we shifted ports. Immediately, her power output went down. Way down. Also, Mantis is partially using electronic signals coming from your Codec to track you. If you switch ports, you'll be clear for a few a seconds.]  
  
"Well… I'll try it." Snake switched ports, and he could hear (and feel) blood rushing into the new area opened by the movement of the Codec transmitter/receiver. It was not a pleasant experience.  
  
The effect on Mantis, though, was immediate. "Where are you?" he yelled. "How did you disappear?"  
  
"Amazing," Snake said. "Nice job, Otacon." He leaned around the corner of the pillar he'd been hiding behind and walked bullets up Mantis' back. The former Russian psychic screamed, and although the bullets were removed in moments, Snake knew the crazy was hurting.  
  
Vulture saw her moment as well, and drilled Mantis in the chest with another bullet. He healed himself, but slower than last time. Breathing heavily, Mantis extended a "psi shield" around himself. Once again, bullets merely Imoved/I in unnatural ways in an attempt to miss him.  
  
Snake switched ports again, and endured the brief flash of pain before opening fire on Mantis. The bullets merely twisted around him before moving on. "What the—" he said, gazing at the now-visible power shield around the psychic.  
  
"What's going on?" Vulture yelled, as her scope filled with red, before it shattered.  
  
A glowing red sphere had appeared around Mantis and was rapidly expanding. Lightning cracked out from it, briefly touching a crate, a wall, a pillar. They all exploded.  
  
"What the hell is that?" Snake said, getting up and running. '  
  
[I don't know.]  
  
"I do!"  
  
Mantis' voice was even more psychotic and high-pitched now, but Snake could still understand him. Barely. "It is the full manifestation of my powers, Solid Snake! That is what truly kept me alive, with my blood soaking the Commander's carpet on Shadow Moses! The indomitable will of my psychic power!"  
  
"Please, shut up," Snake muttered as he ran. Sparing a glance back, he didn't notice Mantis pick up a stray piece of pipe that had been knocked out of the wall with his mind and fling it toward him. As his head turned around, the pipe impacted squarely on Snake's temple.  
  
II guess its time for some beauty sleep,/I he thought as the ground rushed up to meet him. And then everything gently turned black.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Five bright lights in a pentagonal formation woke him; he tried to raise and arm to block the glare but couldn't. IWhat the--/I  
  
His arms were buckled down to something. So were his legs. He sighed. Turning to avoid the glare, he saw Liquid standing off to one side, watching Mantis with a curious look on his face. "This Iagain?/I Snake said. "Can't you think of anything more… original?"  
  
Liquid looked up at him. "So you're awake. Looking old as usual, Snake."  
  
"But not half as ugly."  
  
Liquid laughed. "I'll admit that. I hope you caught a nice nap on that bed of yours, brother—it's the last you'll be taking for a while."  
  
"Sounds marvelous."  
  
Ocelot, standing behind Liquid, chuckled. "It is, Solid Snake," he said. "It is." 


	14. Cell

Chapter Twelve: Cell  
  
  
  
Snake watched as Liquid sat down, a hand running through his dark blonde hair. "Well, brother, we've been expecting you. That whole collapse thing was quite exciting, wasn't it?"  
  
Snake grimaced. "Thousands died, and are dying. I don't see what is 'quite exciting' about that."  
  
Liquid laughed. "Well, you wouldn't. We had quite the time down here, wondering if the ceiling was going to come down or not. Luckily, the Patriots have had this place fully reinforced against any type of attack."  
  
Hidden in the shadows, Mantis snorted. Liquid turned to him, a smile on his face. "Ah, yes, our beloved comrade, returned from the land of the dead. So how are you, old friend?"  
  
"When I said that I'm back from a world where such words do not matter, I mean it," Mantis snapped. Liquid put his hands up, as if to fend the psychic off. "I see. Sorry. But…" Liquid's eyes flashed. "I seem to remember going to that world myself, and still feeling much the same after I returned. Dreary place, really. Boring, at best."  
  
Mantis stiffened. "Like you would know anything about it, parasite." His disgust was evident. "Lying there in Ocelot's arm… and now you and he stand side-by-side. I am amazed by it. In the motherland something like that was cause for a fight to the death…"  
  
Liquid was up in a flash. "You are here by our grace," he said. "To my knowledge, you were dead when we began this little operation. You infiltrated this facility much the same way Snake did, we have tape of you killing FOXHOUND operative Tank, and several guards. I could have you killed on the spot."  
  
"You cannot kill me," Mantis said. He glanced at Vamp for a moment. "'Unfortunately, Hell had no vacancies.' It never will, not for me. I can transfer from body to body, almost at will."  
  
"Then why didn't you do it on Shadow Moses?"  
  
"Ah, but I did." Mantis smiled. He turned to Snake. "I believe that your little girlfriend Meryl is no longer among the living. Hasn't been for years."  
  
"What?!"  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The man in the chair thrashed about, his hands and legs going into spasms as they strained against the restrained. His head was tied down with a leather strap, and some kind of high-tech goggles had been placed over his eyes. Similar-looking earphones covered his ears, and his body was literally covered with small electric nodes hooked up to five CRAY supercomputers.  
  
"What's going on?" one of the many techs in the room asked with alarm. "Get the doctor in here," said another. "He's having a reaction to… something… in there."  
  
"Find out what!" the head technician, a large, balding man, stood. "Get a monitor in here! I'm amazed we didn't have one before! Where's the chief engineer, I'm going to wring his neck—"  
  
"Calm down."  
  
The voice was soft, but immediately silence filled the room, save for the man's thrashing. Sphere walked in, flanked by two NSA agents with not-quite- concealed M4s behind their trench coats. Following them was a sniveling little man who seemed terrified of everything in the room.  
  
Sphere pointed to the man on the table. "Gaius, probe him."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
"She's not dead," Snake said vehemently, straining against his bonds. [Be careful, Snake your blood pressure is spiking,] Otacon said through the Codec. "I… don't… care…" Snake hissed. "I am going to kill that bastard."  
  
Liquid's smiling face hovered above him suddenly. "Guards, take him away," he said. Two guards came over and began unstrapping him.  
  
Bad idea… Snake thought.  
  
As soon as his legs and one arm were free, a kick sent one of the guards flying into Ocelot. He freed the other arm, and the corresponding guard was sent into Liquid and Mantis, knocking them to the ground as well.  
  
Jumping off the gurney he'd been strapped to, Snake grabbed the five five sixer the nearest guard had been carrying, pointed it at the struggling heap of men on the floor, and pulled the trigger.  
  
Nothing happened. Snake checked the clip and the barrel. Nothing. The safety was off.  
  
Ocelot was the first to rise, a Colt Single Action Army in his hand, aimed between Snake's eyes. "Put the gun down, boy," he said. "Slowly. I don't have time for your antics today. Haven't you ever heard of PIN? No pulling the trigger for you."  
  
Snake slowly dropped the assault rifle to floor, and put his hands over his head. "Good boy," Ocelot said. He gave one guard a brutal kick in the side. Snake could dimly hear ribs cracking. "Get up!" the former Spetznaz yelled. "You lazy, worthless…!"  
  
"That's enough, Ocelot," Liquid said, getting up, brushing himself off. Nodding to the guards, he said, "take him away. And make sure you do it right this time." The guard nodded. He swiftly brought the butt of his rifle up, and Snake could hear a crack as pain exploded in the back of his head. He could dimly hear Liquid's laughter as he was dragged away, and then blackness overtook him once again.  
  
  
  
When he awoke, Snake found himself in a cell set up much like the holding pen on Shadow Moses. A single mattress (no cot, Snake thought), one door, and wall-to-wall windows so the guards could watch him. Or, in his case, one guard. Also like Shadow Moses.  
  
Wait a minute… that one guard looked a lot like… a lot like…  
  
"Sasaki!" Snake whispered through the bars on his door. The guard turned, and ran over to the door.  
  
"How do you know my name?" he said suspiciously. "Who're you, anyway? How'd you get in here, and you must be the stupidest ass who ever lived if you got caught!"  
  
"Shut up, Sasaki," Snake said. "Its Snake."  
  
The man's eyes widened. "Hey!" he yelled. "You… and that girl… five years ago! You guys embarrassed me so much! Shut up in there! Don't make me come in."  
  
Snake laughed. "How'd you get back with the Genome Army?" he asked. "I heard you escaped off that God-forsaken island, but I thought you'd slowly disappeared into the woodwork."  
  
Sasaki gave him a suspicious look before saying, "I tried to get a job, but it was so boring there! I mean, I do have an IQ of 180—"  
  
"Sasaki, you are an ordinary soldier who was stationed at Shadow Moses in the hopes of having you killed in the uprising by a particularly vicious division CO who you had been secretary for," Snake said. "Now open this door, Jonny, I don't have the time to sit here and figure out some elaborate plan to get out of here."  
  
"W-what are you talking about?" Sasaki said. "Open the door," Snake said slowly. "No way!" Sasaki yelled.  
  
"What's going on in there?"  
  
The voice was gruff, and sounded old. The door to the cell block opened with a silent whir, and a man whose appearance in no way matched the preconception one received when they heard his voice walked up to Sasaki. He was about 6'4", with jet black hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in a simple black flightsuit, without all the accompanying gear one usually added on. In one arm he casually held an MP40 Schmeisser submachine gun, a relic from World War Two. "My name is Griffin, Solid Snake," he said. "Specialist in interrogation, and a formidable gunfighter."  
  
"Don't you already have one of those?" Snake asked, pointing to Ocelot, who had entered the cell block behind Griffin.  
  
Griffin laughed. "I suppose so," he said. "But it never hurts to have two." He nodded to Sasaki. "Take him to the interrogation chamber," he said. "I'm sure our friend has—many—things to tell us."  
  
Sasaki nodded, visibly trembling. He opened the cell door and grabbed Snake. "C'mon, you," he said, feigning an air of toughness and superiority for his bosses. Too bad they didn't see him on Shadow Moses, Snake thought.  
  
He was led through a twisting series of corridors, Griffin's MP40 painfully jabbing into his back the entire way, until they entered a large circular room with a large torture device in the middle. "Looks like you got a new mattress for your bed," Snake said to Ocelot.  
  
Ocelot chuckled. "You could say that, Solid Snake," he said. "Or we could say I have found myself a new partner, and he has some very nice toys he brought over."  
  
Ocelot knew that most of the instruments on the device were harmless pieces of plastic, but the ones that weren't were very very deadly. "Strap him in," he said to Sasaki. Turning to Griffin, he said, "now we can test your little toy."  
  
"Its very nice," Griffin said, as Sasaki strapped Snake onto the table. As soon as the legendary warrior was contained, he said, "what's your name, guard?"  
  
"J-Jonny Sasaki, sir."  
  
Griffin smiled. The look sent a shiver down Jonny's spine. "Turn the power on, Mr. Sasaki," he said. Jonny nodded and pushed a large red button on a control panel standing beside the torture device. Immediately, Snake's back arched, as he felt a mild electrical current begin to run through the device (and through him). "Mr. Sasaki, turn the black dial to your right to… oh, I don't know, three," Griffin said.  
  
Sasaki, gulping, did so, and Snake felt his left arm begin to spasm. It didn't really hurt, more than a feeling that something was wrong over there. The arm continued to jerk uncontrollably. "Now, Snake, I'm going to ask you some questions about Philanthropy, the Patriots—" Griffin's eyes seemed to harden and his smile disappeared—"and your 'father,' Saladin."  
  
"Big Boss…" Snake muttered. "Turn off your wind-up toy here, and maybe we'll talk. About my 'father.'"  
  
"I'll consider it." Griffin's smile was back. "Mr. Sasaki, turn it up to… nine." Even Ocelot let out a little gasp of astonishment. "You do know how much the body can take, Griffin," he said. "Seven would be much more appropriate."  
  
"I know," Griffin said. "Mr. Sasaki, nine."  
  
Jonny slowly turned the dial, and Snake's vision went red with pain. He let out an inhuman howl that shook Jonny to the bone, and even Ocelot appeared a bit shaken. "Turn it off, Mr. Sasaki," Griffin said after a moment. Then he turned to Snake. "So," he said, "tell us all you know about Saladin."  
  
Snake bit his lip and said, "you'll have to do better than that."  
  
"That dial goes all the way up to level twenty, Solid Snake," Griffin said. "Sasaki, thirteen," he snapped.  
  
Snake's arm began to blister and turn red as electricity arced through it. He passed out within seconds. "Wake him up, Sasaki," Griffin said. Jonny did, and the interrogation went from there.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The pilot said, "Mr. Smith, United States airspace is restricted. If we attempt to enter, we'll be shot down by one of those F-34s."  
  
"I have clearance," 'Sears' said. "Transmit them the signal on this disk. We'll land at JFK." He handed the disk to an attendant, who gave it to the pilot. Turning and heading back to his seat, he pulled a slim cell phone hardly bigger than a large cigarette lighter out of his pocket and dialed a number. "I'm landing at JFK in ten minutes."  
  
"Understood, father," the man on the other end said. "We've captured Snake. I hope you'll get here before he dies. The interrogation Griffin is putting him through is… quite… rigorous, Ocelot said.  
  
Big Boss cursed. "Tell him to lay off, or he will die along with Snake. I want a talk with my son. Proceed as planned, Liquid. Outer Heaven is so close." Hanging up, he looked out at the massive cloud of dust and smoke obscuring Manhattan. By the end of the day, Heaven itself would rise out of the ruins of the United States.  
  
Or Outer Heaven, at the least. 


	15. Questions

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter Thirteen contains graphic scenes of torture. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED LITTLE CHILDREN, the rating will still be PG-13. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, THANK YOU.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Thirteen: Questions  
  
  
  
The small commuter jet glided into restricted United States airspace with no notice of what it had done. It was merely a hunk of metal and electronics, and did not care where it went, or even if it crashed. It cut through the heavy layer of clouds that concealed the sky, and skirted past the massive cloud of tan dust that engulfed Manhattan.  
  
The jet's pilot, on the other hand, was another story. The man was sweating bullets, and he continually took large gulps of a chalky-white antacid medicine from a large plastic container. His mood did not brighten when an F-34 Shark air interceptor sidled up beside his port wing and informed him that he had two minutes to leave United States airspace before being shot down.  
  
"Transmit the signal on the disk," Big Boss said. The pilot nodded, biting his lip. What if it didn't work? He slid the disk into the plane's computer and transmitted its contents to the F-34.  
  
"What's this crap?"  
  
The fighter pilot's voice came over the radio, gruff and of indeterminate age. "Send it to your superiors," the pilot said nervously. "It's a clearance code."  
  
The pilot laughed. "Clearance code? Boy, you don't fly over the U.S. of A at the moment unless you have stars on your wings and a flag on your fuselage, understand?" The amusement in his voice disappeared as he said, "now, you're down to twenty seconds to get out of here, before I take you down."  
  
The pilot turned to Big Boss, his eyes with a hopeless look in them. "I can't do anything," he said. "They're going to shoot us down."  
  
Big Boss' eyes twinkled with laughter. "Let me talk to that pilot, son," he said. "I recognized his voice." Grabbing hold of the mike, he said, "Lt. Colonel James A. Henderson, this is George Sears."  
  
"What? President Sears?"  
  
Big Boss chuckled. "Yes, Lt. Colonel. You are going to let us land at JFK, because I am a former President of the United States, and I have clearance. If you would transmit that signal to your superiors, they will inform you that I have enough clearance to terminate your position, which will happen if we are not allowed to land."  
  
The gruffness and bravado was gone from Henderson's voice as he said, "fine, I'll transmit the signal. And when it doesn't stand up, I'll be more than happy to blow both of you out of the sky."  
  
"Temper, temper," Big Boss said. They waited several minutes, circling over the ocean, the F-34 staying right beside them. Finally, Henderson's voice came back, this time sulky: "you're cleared to land at JFK, President Sears. I'll escort you. Stay clear of the dust cloud, unless you want to ram into something."  
  
"Will do," Big Boss said. Turning to the pilot he said, "see? We made it in. Now land us at JFK." Speaking into the mike once more, he said, "Lt. Colonel Henderson, radio the men at charge in JFK and tell them I expect that Sphere will be ready for me when I arrive."  
  
"Of course, President Sears," Henderson said, although by his tone it was clear that he had no idea what Big Boss was talking about.  
  
The jet screamed over the water, the F-34 pacing it. The ruined mass of the Empire State Building, the foundation of Outer Heaven, was not far away.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Griffin smiled as acrid smoke curled from Snake's still form. "Wake him," he said to Sasaki. Jonny nodded and slapped Snake until he woke. "I'm sorry about this," he whispered. "Shut up," Snake hissed out through clenched teeth. "I can handle it."  
  
"Don't talk to him!" Griffin shouted, effortlessly backhanding Sasaki into the control panel. "Ocelot, Snake, and myself are the only ones to talk in this room. Understand, guard?!"  
  
Sasaki nodded. The cruel smile once again played over Griffin's lips. "Good. Now, Snake, why don't you tell us about Big Boss?"  
  
"I expect you know enough about him yourself." Snake spit blood-stained phlegm out his mouth, and started hacking, his chest arching up as the coughs rattled his chest cavity.  
  
"Not feeling so young anymore, eh, Snake?" Ocelot said. "I do hope your number doesn't come up anytime soon. It would be quite… disappointing… if Naomi's random little number came up within the next few hours. Oh, you will die, Snake."  
  
"I'll die after I kill you."  
  
Ocelot laughed. "I remember a colleague of mine saying that," he said. "She's dead now. As dead as you will be in a few hours. That time, you were right, Solid Snake. This time, it will be my pleasure to prove you wrong. Sasaki, fifteen. I want this scum to talk."  
  
Sasaki slowly turned the knob, and hit the power button. Immediately, Snake's arm began to brown, and Griffin said, "Ocelot, now I'm the one who's a little worried. He'll permanently lose the usage of that arm if you continue. You'll put him into shock."  
  
"Like we care," Ocelot said. "Sasaki, sixteen."  
  
Snake had ceased howling long ago; now he merely jerked as each current ran through his body, a white froth issuing from his lips. Griffin finally yelled, "Sasaki! Enough! Turn it off."  
  
Jonny, trembling, his body filled with a mixture of disgust and anger, nodded and hit the switch. Snake slowly sank back onto the torture device, his eyes wildly going all over the place. "This… bed… gives a pretty nice… massage," he managed to make out. "Even if the masseuse was a bit… rough."  
  
Griffin laughed. "I like you, Solid Snake," he said. "I'd heard of your exploits even before Ocelot broke Osprey and myself out of Pease. FOXHOUND used to mean something, back then. Now… its just a shadow.  
  
"Now, tell me about Big Boss! Or you will feel what none have felt before—the wrath of this machine on level 20. Ten seconds on level 17 will kill you—I wonder how long 20 will take."  
  
"No."  
  
The word, so simple, infuriated Griffin. "Talk!" he yelled. "I will learn what I want to know about Big Boss before anyone leaves this room, and if I don't, you will be the one to die, Solid Snake!"  
  
Snake said nothing.  
  
Griffin let out a low growl, before he said to Sasaki, "level 20. Kill this sorry relic."  
  
Jonny, for the first time in his life, it seemed, stood up to someone, at that moment. "I can tell you about Big Boss," he said quietly. "All you want to know."  
  
Griffin smirked, and even Ocelot's lips creased a bit. "Can you, now?" Griffin said, his voice light and patronizing. "This should be very interesting, Mr… Sasaki?"  
  
Jonny stood straight, his eyes focused on a bit of plaster on the far wall. "Big Boss, as he is called, was born in 1932. He was a 'child soldier' used by the United States to keep Japanese forces at bay in the Pacific while the real troops were sent to Europe. During this time he ran away and became a mercenary, hiring out his services to the highest bidder. By the end of the war, he was only thirteen, but had the most impressive kill rate of any soldier in the war—thanks to his work for the Allies and the Axis powers.  
  
"After the war he disappeared, and was eventually caught in Tokyo by the newly made CIA in 1949. He completed many solo missions for the CIA during the Korean and Vietnam conflicts, but also extensively rented out his services to whoever could pay him during this period. By the early 70s he was already being called the "greatest soldier of the twentieth century" and "the greatest mercenary ever." It was then that he was recruited the "les enfants terrible" project, which ultimately produced Liquid, Solid, and Solidus Snake.  
  
"When High-Tech Special Forces Unit FOXHOUND was created by President Reagan in 1985, Big Boss was chosen to be the commander of the unit. FOXHOUND participated in many "black" ops, and took part in the overthrow of Panamanian dictator Manuel Noriega in 1989 and the Desert Storm operation in 1991.  
  
"In 1995, an armed fortress city called 'Outer Heaven' appeared in the middle of South Africa. The United States sent FOXHOUND operative Gray Fox to investigate Outer Heaven, and the rumors of massive weapons development going on there—"  
  
"That's enough," Griffin said. "If I wanted Big Boss' life story, I would have asked Ocelot here. Mr. Sasaki, you have proven that you know nothing more than any of us do about Big Boss, save for his birth date. 1932. That, at the least, is mildly interesting. Do you know the exact date?"  
  
"I… I believe it was sometime during October or November, sir," Sasaki said. "Now that is interesting," Griffin said. "Take Snake back to his cell."  
  
"Yes, sir," Sasaki said. He began to unstrap Snake, taking care to not injure the operative's smoking left arm. As he helped Snake up, the former FOXHOUND whispered, "sorry, Jonny, but I gotta do this."  
  
"Do what?" Sasaki whispered back, just before Snake landed a hard right in his gut. In a flash, Sasaki's five five sixer was in Snake's hands, and firing. Figures Sasaki wouldn't have a PIN lock on his gun, Snake thought as he raked the room with fire.  
  
Jonny yelped in fear and leapt behind the device, huddling down as bullets ricocheted all around him. Ocelot dove through an open door, and pulled out his Colt Single Action Army, before deciding that this time discretion was the better part of valor. "Griffin, get out of there!" he yelled. Pulling out a radio, he spoke low and fast into it, calling for reinforcements.  
  
Griffin, meanwhile, had also pulled out his own gun, the MP40 Schmeisser, and was calmly firing back at Snake. He jerked suddenly, and seemed surprise at the red flowers that were blossoming all over his chest. He continued to fire as the red stained his black leather jacket, until he fell over, the MP40 falling from his hands to clatter to the floor. "Bastard…" he said, before going into a fit of coughing, blood leaping out of his throat to the floor. When the coughing stopped, Griffin's lifeless eyes bored into the ceiling of the torture chamber.  
  
Holding in the trigger on the five five sixer, Snake found the crate containing all his gear. He quickly donned his Sneaking Suit, grabbed his FAMAS, SOCOM, and M9, stuffed some rations and extra clips into his ammo packs, before he tossed the gun to Sasaki. "See you later," he said, before taking the level 3 security card from Sasaki's breast pocket and running through a door on the opposite side of the room from Ocelot.  
  
Sasaki slowly stood, taking in the shattered glass, blood, and Griffin's body. The room was in a shambles. Ocelot slowly reappeared, his handgun ready, when two squads of Genome Soldiers, clad in riot shields, bulletproof vests, and Kevlar helmets burst into the room, followed by Raiden. "What happened here?" he asked coldly.  
  
"We were interrogating Snake," Ocelot said, "and Griffin told this guard to take Snake back to his cell. As they were leaving, Snake got a hold of this guard's gun and killed Griffin. I called for backup. Snake escaped."  
  
"Damn," Raiden said. He spoke into his radio. "Begin Red Alert Protocol. Search every section of the structure. Do it in pairs, or better, in squads of four. Do not be alone at any time. We will stay on Red Alert until myself or Liquid has rescinded the order."  
  
Red strobe lights began to flash all around the Devil's Attic as hundreds of guards began searching the halls for one man: Solid Snake. A squad spotted him, moving quickly toward the lower levels. Within seconds, all four were dead, their bodies riddled with bullets. Another squad spotted him entering a stairwell. Within moments the stairwell had turned into a charnel house, dark, dark blood splashed against the walls, the ruined bodies of the guards lying on the stairs like dead cattle after being "harvested."  
  
Solid Snake was angry. Each throb of blood pulsing through his almost- ruined left arm seemed to madden him ever more. Nothing would stop him until every terrorist in the Devil's Attic was dead.  
  
Nothing. 


	16. Dead

Fans of Metal Gear Solid: Reaching Heaven,  
  
I am truly sorry, but I am unable to continue this fic for now. I am immersed in writing WarCraft III, and have a quite promising novel started. I'm also working on a non-fic novel (a.k.a., something I could get published without being sued by someone). Here's a link to what I have on WarCraft III: http://www.blizzforums.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=3105  
  
The "real" novel deals with the fighting in the Middle East, specifically a rogue Mossad agent who tries to set off an Arab-Israeli war by killing thousands in terrorist attacks on Rome, Berlin, Paris, London and Tel Aviv simultaneously. I'll post it on Fanfiction.net if I can find a place where it would be appropriate to put it (so it would be in the right place for non-"fan" fiction).  
  
I am sorry to declare Metal Gear Solid: Reaching Heaven, and the two projected sequels, hooked up to life-support. Someday (like whenever I decide to) I'll start writing it again. If someone wants to continue. mail me at fenix_srus@yahoo.com.  
  
Sorry, folks. I'll get to it someday. My fault, not yours. Your reviews, beside being oh-so-nice, have really helped me improve my writing.  
  
TheyAre 


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